


I Fell Into Your Brown Eyes

by SylviaNightshade



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Lucas/Max, Byler endgame, Character Study, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Gay Pride, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, POV Mike, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, also Nancy/Jonathan/Steve, also Will/OMC, don't worry Dustin finds love too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-01-16 13:10:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18522193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaNightshade/pseuds/SylviaNightshade
Summary: That's how he knows he's started to fall for Will.ORThe Stranger Things kids live "normal" lives after the closing of the upside-down gate in season 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has taken me a very long time to write-- almost two and a half years-- and it's still unfinished. I will try to finish before season three comes out, but no promises. I just wanted to explore Mike's blatant bisexuality and to prove that he's a bi-sex-u-al, I've included explicit sexual content. So, WARNING: these are aged-up characters having sex. But it's mostly about lurv & feelings. Very coming-of-age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Will, between seasons 1 and 2, into season 2

It starts when they almost lose him again, Mike thinks.

Actually, scratch that. It starts when they find him again. Stick thin, pale, but smiling from the safety of a hospital bed. Tears burn the back of his throat, but it’s the happiness that takes over in the end. And Mike can tell something’s off from the second he hugs him, but he just. Really doesn’t care at the moment, because his friend is alive. Will is _home_. That’s enough for now.

They can’t take him back to the Byers’ right away. The lab has agents there cleaning up the mess, here trying to get everyone to keep quiet, to sign papers, waivers, confidentiality forms, whatever. Joyce is angry at first, like everyone, but Hopper stays unsettlingly calm. They have a talk, behind closed doors, and after that she starts signing. Mike does, too. He doesn’t care. Will is _home_. It plays over and over in his head, drowning out everything else.

The three of them refuse to leave until Will can, and even though they aren’t technically family like Jonathan and Joyce, even though the situation’s still in shambles, Hopper pulls some strings and lets them stay one more night. After that, all their parents come to take them away, with a bit more hysteria and hugging than necessary. 

Officials from the state stop by his house within fifteen minutes of his return to perform interrogations, and that pretty much ruins every good feeling he had. Once they leave, and he’s alone again, Mike starts to cry.

He sees her everywhere now. In the armchair, by the tv, in the basement, on the stairs. It hurts a lot more than it should, he supposes. That doesn’t really make it better. Will makes it better, when he finally gets cleared, and the others pile into his tiny room for a sleepover. Mike’s afraid to leave him alone, but he knows Joyce isn’t going to take her eyes off of him any time soon.

They keep track of milestones, something to separate the before and after. First sleepover, obviously, after. First campaign. First day back to school. First trip to the arcade together. First time out on their bikes at night (which turns into a last time when they get caught). They’re a team again, a party, but no one misses how the number hasn’t changed. How El replaced Will and now Will’s replacing her. 

Mike talks with Lucas about it over the walkie, and he’s surprisingly sympathetic. But then again, Lucas has always been good at comforting Mike. He says he misses her, too, but they can’t do anything about it. She’s gone, and even if she did come back, it wouldn’t be safe. They have to be safe now, for Will. Mike nods along, hoping Lucas can’t hear the wetness welling up in his throat. 

Nancy understands more than anyone else. He knows she’s still devastated about Barb, and that she blames herself. What he doesn’t know is why she’s still with Steve after everything that happened, if she blames him, too. Though he is actually starting to like Steve Harrington, the guy he once called a douchebag. And Nancy’s smart; she can make her own decisions. 

She holds him one night as he cries under the basement stairs, silent, rocking. It reminds him how lucky he is that she knows, about everything. She knows exactly what to say, or not to say. She makes him feel whole, not stupid, and even though they go back to being themselves after that, their petty teenage selves, he’s still grateful.

He’s grateful for Dustin’s teeth when they finally come in, but not that weird sound he starts making. He’s grateful for Lucas holding onto the wrist rocket for when he has nightmares that the walls are closing in. He’s grateful for the way Jonathan looks out for Will when no one else is around. But, Jesus, he’s grateful for Will’s smile.

Will smiles through it all, just happy to be with them again. But Mike senses it. The first time he’s allowed to stay over at the Wheeler’s and they sleep in the basement. He wakes to Will shivering, freezing, pupils moving rapidly behind closed eyelids. He tries putting blankets over him, but Will starts muttering, shaking, incoherent streams of words. He grabs Mike’s arm as he tries to pull away, not abrupt, but desperate. _Please stay_ , he whispers, or at least it’s what Mike hears. 

It takes three months for Will to start sleeping on his own. Joyce can barely let him, but it’s good, Hopper tells her. Good that he’s gaining himself back, gradually returning to normal. 

About two days into February, Will has an ‘episode’. 

That’s what they call it at the lab. Daydreams, nightmares. Will curled up in the middle of the street, with his hands clawing at the ground, shaking, wearing nothing but his pj shorts and fresh blood underneath his fingernails. Eyelids closed, pupils moving rapidly behind them.

The lab kindly orders him to come in. He goes three times in February, once in March and April and May, then twice in June and the rest of the summer is free, save one episode the day before school starts up again. Mike sees four of them. He doesn’t need to see any more.

What’s funny is that Dustin and Lucas don’t seem to care nearly as much as Mike does. They’re preoccupied. They’re stronger than he is, Mike thinks. They can just let it go, no shift in humor or demeanor. None of them are ignoring what happened, not exactly, but Mike just feels hopeless and lost because how can he be expected to do anything normal when there’s still weird shit going on? Lucas is there for him, but it’s hard.

He doesn’t miss what people say about Will. The glances, the stares, the whispers, _zombie boy_. It makes him want to scream, or punch someone. Or both.

“Hey, Wheeler, you hiding scratches under your shirt, too?”

Anger flares up inside him, and he barely turns to glare, still walking.

“At least I’m not hiding bruises.”

Probably not the smartest thing to say, but it made him feel powerful. It was mean. He liked it. Once he gets home, cuts across his jaw, he curls up in her spot. Can’t stop sobbing for the next hour.

El wouldn’t let any of this happen. She’d make that asshole pee himself, or crack his skull against the wall. It feels like his chest is burning, with guilt, with longing, with pain, and still with anger. He wonders if the others cry this much, but knows they don’t.

There’s just something about Will. Something small, sad, and quiet, hiding in his dark brown eyes. Mike recognizes it the most often when the four of them are laughing, probably at something Dustin said. He’ll smile, gaze darting to the ground. He’ll always smile, but it’s been a while since Mike heard him laugh. 

Mike’s still allowed to sleep over at Will’s, so he does, as frequently as possible. With Halloween approaching, the doctors are afraid he’ll have more episodes, he says. “But... I mean, they also said they would stop and it doesn’t really... feel like that’s happening?” Will shrugs. “I just kind of... always feel this... ”

Mike sits up, searching for a silhouette in the dark. “What?”

There’s a pause. “Fear,” Will settles on. “There’s this fear.”

“Fear of what?” Mike asks, not really sure there’s an answer. Will’s silent for so long that Mike almost thinks he’s fallen asleep. But there’s a whisper.

“I don’t know.”

~<:>~

They’re at the arcade, just a few days before Halloween, when he starts getting really worried. Mike almost forgets to go, ‘borrowing’ money from Nancy on the way out. He ignores her shout of “Asshole!” as he bikes away, mainly because he knows that’s what he is now. Around his parents, teachers, friends, even strangers.

 _Not around Will_. 

It’s almost too late when he pulls up, but the others waited for him. They start in, getting distracted pretty easily by some new player called Madmax beating Dustin at Dig Dug. Mike could care less, disgusted that his friends even think about making Nancy go on a date with that creep Keith. (Lucas once told him that’s what he’ll look like in five years. Mike doesn’t think he’ll ever get that tall.)

They argue over the identity of Madmax for a solid minute, and as Mike turns away, uninterested, he realizes that

Will is gone.

Shit, Will is gone. _Shit_. His gaze sweeps the aisles, frantic. “Guys—” They’re not listening. It’s too late, he thinks. It’s taken him again. Panicking, he turns to yell at Dustin and Lucas to _shut the hell up and pay attention_ when he sees a small figure, standing outside the back door. It’s him; it’s his silhouette. 

Bursts through the door, “Will!” 

The smaller boy starts, whipping his head around to look at Mike. Had he just been... staring at the sky? Mike frowns. “Are you okay?” 

Will turns back to the stars, dazed. “Yeah... I just... I needed some air.”

But there’s no way he’s okay. Mike’s seen it before— the frozen stance, disoriented and wide-eyed afterwards. It can take a while for Will talk about it, so he just ushers him back inside. His heart starts beating again.

~<:>~

From there on out, everything falls to shit.

Will has another episode on Halloween that leaves Mike _literally fucking terrified_ because he needs to stop letting Lucas and Dustin and this ‘Madmax’ bullshit distract him from the most important thing in his life, which is taking care of his friend. “I’ve got him!” The anger flares out, hot and fast. “Keep trick-or-treating. I’m bored anyways.” 

When they get back to the basement, Mike wants to cry. Again. Will’s shaking, and Mike rubs up and down his shoulders, something melting inside him as that terrified expression slowly fades away. He wanted to ask him what happened all the way here, but he didn’t need to. Will explained as soon as they sat down.

“Don’t tell the others, okay?”

Even though he knows they’ll find out eventually, Mike nods. He just wants those eyes free of tears and fear and pain. _They won’t understand_.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Me, too.”

He looks over, vision blurring, only to find Will’s eyes brimming, too. In that moment, he can almost swear something passes between them. Something he’s never really felt before, but also something he has. It’s not like when he thought Will was dead, or even when he saw him again. It’s like it was with El. The instinct, stronger than ever, _I have to protect him._  

Mike smiles. “Well, if we’re both going crazy, we’ll go crazy together, right?”

“Yeah. Crazy together.” 

Despite himself, Mike reaches for his hand, and they stay like that for a while. Not looking at each other, just sitting. Connected. As if holding onto him can keep anything bad from happening. 

~<:>~

After that, they start to lose him, bit by bit. 

First on the field at school, then outside the tunnels. This time Mike’s the one paralyzed, unable to help or breathe or do anything other than panic. He feels less helpless when he realizes that no one really knows what’s happening to Will. The doctors can only speculate, experiment, just like they did before. When he got taken. Mike can’t stand to be in the lab much longer.

That’s where they really lose him. All those scientists and military men with their guns and torches and violence trigger the shadow monster and he makes Will send the demodogs and all of a sudden they’re running and Bob is dead and Mike’s just trying to make sense of all this as he holds a sedated Will in his arms, wondering if his friend’s even in there anymore.

Then the others show up, as in _all_ the others, to rescue them. Mike wonders what exactly Jonathan and Nancy have been up to, and why the hell Max is there, and why is Steve there _with a bat_ and he gets none of these answers right away because everyone is silent on the ride back. Joyce whimpering under Hopper’s arm. Will curled up in Mike’s lap. 

At the Byers’ they take stock of what they know. One: Bob is dead. It rings in everyone’s ears. Two: Lucas told Max everything, so technically she’s in the party now. Surprisingly, Mike doesn’t really give a shit, because Three: They can’t trust Will anymore. And that’s a damn problem, because Will might be the only one who knows how to kill the shadow monster.  

They devise a plan, plastering paper and trash and everything they can find on the walls of the shed. Mike thinks it’ll work, but he’s not prepared for the way Will writhes against the ropes, lifting the chair off the ground. If it weren’t for Hopper, Mike would’ve covered his ears again at all the screaming. Jesus, this is unbearable.

But then Joyce starts in, tears filling her eyes, talking about one of Will’s first drawings. And he listens, a glossy, panicked look taking over his expression. At least he’s no longer screaming. Joyce finishes talking about the rainbow ship, and Jonathan takes the reins. Mike watches, his chest burning, salt water slipping down his cheeks. He feels like his heart has stopped, like he can’t breathe, because all he can think about is the fact that Will is home, but he’s not. He’s gone again. Fuck, they have to get him back. 

“Do you remember the first day that we met?” he chokes out. Will’s gaze flips over to him, brows drawn together. Mike sniffs. “It was... it was the first day of kindergarten,” he continues, unable to meet Will’s gaze. “I knew nobody. I had no friends, and I just felt... ” Another tear squeezes out. “... so alone, and so scared.” He takes a breath. _He can do this._ “But... I saw you on the swings and... you were alone, too. You were just, swinging by yourself. So, I just walked up to you and... I asked.” Looking up, finally, Will’s face has softened, opened. The eyes are still wrong, but his friend is in there. He can feel it. “I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And... you said yes. You said yes.” Something surges inside him. “It was the best thing I’ve ever done.” 

He can swear Will’s about to cry. In a split second, the whole world spins around the two of them, earnest, brown eyes on brown eyes. _Please come back to me. Please._

But the image shatters. “Let me go.”

The shadow monster refuses to acknowledge the memories. And Mike almost loses it, but Hopper sees the Morse code before they can really react. His emotions dip and rise precariously. _H-E-R-E_. Will is there. He’s talking.

They talk, they watch, they listen, they send, they record.

_C-L-O-S-E-G-A-T-E_

And they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha sorry for that but more will come soon


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Lucas pre-season 1, into season 1, and pre-season 2
> 
> *Trigger warning for the f-slur*

The first time Mike kisses Lucas, they’re eleven. 

“We have to know how to do it,” Lucas argues, sitting across from Mike on his bed. They’re at the Sinclair’s for a sleepover that the others felt disinclined to attend. And Mike is cornered. 

“W-What do you mean?” he stutters out.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Because, dummy. Look at us. We’re nerds.” He gestures between the two of them. “And everyone knows that nerds don’t have girlfriends. Know why?” Mike shakes his head. “Because nerds can’t kiss. We gotta prove them wrong!” 

“Who exactly are we proving wrong?” Mike grumbles, folding his arms in, not sure where Lucas got these statistics or whatever. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucas insists. “All that matters is that we don’t look like idiots next year with all the middle school kids. Now kiss me!”

For a beat, there’s only silence. The two of them staring at each other. Mike’s thinking of his lips on Lucas’s, the awkwardness of leaning in, the curling in his gut. He has to look away. “I don’t like this,” he admits lamely, trying not to blush so hard.

“Mike.” He looks up, and Lucas’s gaze has softened. The other boy scoots closer, placing his hand on Mike’s knee. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know it’s—”

“No, I want to,” Mike counters, surprised at himself. Lucas’s eyes widen and Mike flushes, stammering. “I-I mean, I want to know how.” Lucas doesn’t tear his gaze away, and Mike wishes he could dig himself into a hole. “It’s not—” 

But he stops. Because Lucas is kissing him. Soft-lipped, chocolate-skinned Lucas has his hand on Mike’s face and _is kissing him_. Mike’s pretty sure he’ll die right there. 

When they pull away, eyes opening, Lucas’s hand hovers near Mike’s cheek. They stare, and Mike knows his heart is pounding and his face is beet-red, but he doesn’t dare move, because Lucas looks absolutely pleased with himself. “That was cool.” He smiles, leaning in again, and Mike is panicking, completely out of his element.

His hands shoot up to grip the other boy’s shoulders, breaking them apart. “Okay! That’s enough,” he breathes, starry-eyed.

Lucas laughs. “Why?” 

Mike frowns, shoving him away. “This isn’t funny! We’re not supposed to be doing stuff like this!”

Lucas shrugs. “Why not? It was fun.”

Nervous tension coils in Mike’s stomach and he curses literally everything. “Yeah,” he admits, attempting a casual tone. “But you don’t want _me_ as your girlfriend, do you?”

Lucas doesn’t seem to get it, frowning and pushing lightly on Mike’s chest. “Why are you so tense, Wheeler?” he teases. When Mike nearly falls onto the pillows, he laughs again. “Lightweight.”

Despite himself, Mike grins, a fluttering in his chest. “Asshole.” 

For the rest of the night, they talk about anything and everything except the kiss. Kisses? The thing. And Mike knows it’s because Lucas doesn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable. He’s a good friend like that. 

~<:>~

Sixth grade is hard. Will gets teased a lot more, and the other three, by defending their friend, get thrown in with him. So much for Lucas’s plan. It sucks, but it’s nothing new. For a while, they’re good. Everything’s good. Fun, innocent, normal, like elementary school. And then someone calls Will a faggot.

It’s a word they’ve only ever heard Lonnie use. They all know what it means. Mike’s stomach flips and he exchanges a look with Lucas, guilt seeping through him. 

It gets even harder after that. Will can’t spend the night for a while, and when he does, it has to be with all four of them. His rules. The three of them couldn’t care less, but they know what it means to Will. Once Lonnie leaves, he relaxes a bit more. But even then, Mike feels bad. Because he knows, somehow, that Will would’ve enjoyed kissing Lucas just as much as Mike did. And what that means for his own state.

They stop worrying, at least consciously, about all that stuff. Things get comfortable again. And once Will goes missing, Mike can hardly think about anything but finding him again.

But then. Eleven. 

Mike thinks it’s more her gentleness than anything else. Her softness, her carefulness. As cheesy as it is, her spirit. Not to mention she’s a badass and pretty as _hell_. He’s head over heels instantly. 

It’s almost a surprise when Lucas gets jealous of her.

Mike doesn’t read into it at first, but when Dustin mentions ‘some girl’ showing up and Mike only paying attention to her, it clicks. Of course, he’s still annoyed that Lucas won’t accept El, because she’s smart and good and amazing and they need her. Why can’t he see that? It fucking stings, because none of this is even Mike’s fault.

When he kisses El, it’s on impulse. It feels less scary, but more exciting considering their lives are at stake (and he may or may not be in love with her, but that’s beside the point). He doesn’t tell Lucas until after... everything. He tells Lucas a lot after everything.

~<:>~

The second time Mike kisses Lucas, they’re thirteen. 

Another sleepover, another nightmare. Mike’s whimpering in his sleeping bag, trying not to wake his friend up, and failing. He hears the covers shift as Lucas rises, rummaging through the drawers to find the wrist rocket and wordlessly coming over to place it beside Mike’s pillow. Then he lays down behind Mike, tucking into his back, an arm draped over the curve of his side.

Mike waits a beat, still very awake. “Aren’t you cold?” he whispers.

“Nah,” Lucas murmurs. Mike feels his grip loosen. “Kind of warm actually." 

Carefully, chest still throbbing, Mike unzips the sleeping bag and climbs out. When he rolls over, Lucas’s arm is still draped over him. The other boy’s eyes are closed, but they shift open ever so slightly. 

“Do you think we killed it?” He’s looking down, voice raised to a soft tone. “I mean, did she...” 

“She killed it, Mike.” Lucas’s response is firm. “It’s gone.”

“Yeah, but... ” He pauses. “We never closed the gate.”

“ _Mike_.” There’s an unusual strain to his voice, and Mike looks up into his face, almost bumping their noses. He searches Lucas’s dark eyes for a sign, willing himself to say something, do something. Lucas places a cautious hand on Mike’s shoulder, shifting up slowly to cup his jaw, running his thumb across the cheekbone. 

It’s Mike that leans in this time, kissing him gently, testing the waters. He’s surprised and warmed when Lucas kisses back. Mike moves his hand to Lucas’s waist, shifting closer. There’s something exhilarating about it. Neither of them know what the hell they’re doing, but it feels… nice. But when Lucas starts to roll on top of him, the fear and panic seize his chest again.

He freaks out.

“Shit. S-Stop,” he manages to get out between kisses. “Stop, Lucas!” 

The other boy does, moving off of Mike as he sits up, head in his hands. Lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry,” Lucas whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

Mike doesn’t know what to do; he’s so messed up. He’s so messed up. “Mike,” Lucas whispers. “Are you okay?” He moves closer, tentatively. Mike shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to let the tears fall. 

But they do. And Lucas holds him as he cries, silent, rocking. He can’t really speak, lungs and vocal cords constricted, only shakily whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... ” 

Lucas tells him to shut up, not unkindly. They stay like that until Mike’s calmed down, and by that time, they’re both tired. Lucas makes him take the bed, but Mike insists he can’t sleep alone. So they lay down under the covers, facing away from one another until Mike turns and wraps himself around Lucas, falling asleep to the sound of his breath. 

In the morning, it’s like nothing ever happened.

Mike keeps radioing El like nothing ever happened. Lucas develops a crush on Max like nothing ever happened. Mike tries not to be jealous like nothing ever happened. Mike _is_ jealous. But it’s not like he can do anything about it.

And then. Eleven. 

The second he sees the dead demodog, he knows it’s her. He can feel it. She unlocks the door, and he’s unprepared for the way she looks walking in, incredible, breathtaking. Everything washes over him at once, because _shit_ , it’s been so long. He utters her name, voice breaking, and when they hug, it’s like he can breathe again.

It’s a hell of a night. All of Mike’s emotions have been heightened, so he doesn’t really know how to feel. His longing for El has been satisfied, even if she does have to leave again and it scares him to death as he watches her go. His longing for Will is still omnipresent, more terrifying and confusing than anything he’s ever experienced. 

But they get him back. And they get her back. And plenty of hugging ensues, even an awkward one between Max and El, the cause of which— El’s seeming hostility towards the redhead— Mike still has yet to determine. But Max smiles at her anyway, and it warms Mike’s heart. 

The gate is closed. Everything’s back to normal, or at least as normal as Hawkins can get, and Mike thinks his life is officially one thousand percent better than it was last year at this time. For the first time, all six of them are together. Dustin is smarter, Lucas is stronger, Will is better. Max is acceptably tubular. El is _home_. It plays over and over in his head, drowning out everything else.

It’s how Mike knows that he’s started to fall for Will. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize if anyone was weirded out by eleven-and-thirteen-year-olds kissing but it does happen (I mean Mike and El lol)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Eleven-- post-season 2 & far beyond
> 
> *Trigger warning for underage sexual content*

Eleven is perfect.

She’s beautiful, exquisite, intelligent, kind. Mike can’t stop looking at her. He sees her almost every day at school, and after, more often than not. She goes by Jane there, and for a while, she’s stuck in an intermediate course, just trying to adjust to the fact that she’s never learned anything about basic geography or mathematics. And her language skills are minimalistic. It sucks, Mike knows, but he helps her when she’s feeling overwhelmed. She trusts him.

She also starts trusting Max, who is, surprisingly, at the top of their class freshman year. Just a few points above Mike, who may have had to deal with supernatural occurrences two years in a row and didn’t pay attention as much as he should have. Who can blame him? 

Max and Eleven get along pretty well, it seems. They start meeting in and after school for tutoring sessions. Yes, Mike’s a bit grumpy about this, but he’s not opposed to his girlfriend learning how to exist in the normal world. (Lucas teases him immensely about their girlfriends hanging out, and Mike wishes he wouldn’t, because it makes him remember those two nights, and then he can’t stand to be around Lucas and not be kissing him, sometimes.) 

But he’s with El. And the sessions are helpful. And as El’s speaking improves, she’s able to tell Mike more. They talk about… more. She tells him what happened the year she was gone, that Hopper taught her quite a bit, and without him she would be sinking. She tells him about her mother, and Mike goes with El to visit her, once. It’s there, in that house, that she tells him more of what they used to do to her at the lab.

It’s hard for her to explain. But she talks about Dr. Brenner’s methods. She talks about how he tortured her, psychologically more than anything. About the experiments, and the sensory deprivation tanks, and what it was like to never see anything but those walls. She saw a lot, through her time in the black space, and she learned a bit of what ‘outside’ looked like. But she hadn’t really seen it, not fully, until that night she escaped. And met them.

It was small stuff, at first. Mike calling her a friend. Hugging her. Giving her clothes and shelter. Expecting nothing in return. She began to realize that her life before the boys hadn’t just been hard. It had been horrible, and cruel. That no one should be treated the way they treated her. That living under the rules of pain and fear was a violation of her body, her mind, and her spirit. She learned what she deserved, and how to reject what she didn’t.

Mike tears up a bit, because how can he not? He wraps El in a hug and they stay there, kneeling on the floor in front of Terry’s rocking chair. 

~<:>~

It’s impossible to predict, but they do break up.

It takes a while. They’re together in ninth grade, tenth grade, and part of eleventh grade. And everything seems completely and totally fine and normal, because El’s learning and she’s getting really good at math, and when she starts physics junior year, it’s impressive. Everything about her is impressive, Mike thinks. She has a confidence, born at first from her telekinetic abilities— yes, _that_ took a while to tamper down— but transformed into an underlying faith. In herself, in her friends, in her mind. She’s always been independent and that’s what gets her through high school. 

She has a casualty to everything, like the world has been laid out for her and she’s there to explore every piece of it. But sometimes, she struggles with knowing exactly where to stop. 

“Mike, what is fucking?”

That’s where it starts.

They’re fifteen, going on sixteen. Sitting in Mike’s basement, where she feels the most at home. El’s laying on his lap, face up, arms folded across her chest. Mike has his hands in her hair, his back up against the wall. And when she asks, he can’t help but stiffen. _Jesus Christ_. 

It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it. Because, um. He’s thought about it. With her. Multiple times. But, he wasn’t willing to do anything until she was ready. And clearly, she doesn’t even know what it is, so he shouldn’t have been thinking about it in the first place. 

But he clears his throat, annoyed that he still has no control over how hard he blushes. “Um, i-it’s, um… ” Usually he answers her questions without fail, so she looks up at him, confused. He swallows. “Um, why? Did… someone say something to you? About… that?”

El nods. “Max.” She’s quiet for a beat. “She said that I had to be careful about fucking people. I was going to ask what she meant, but then we were interrupted.” 

Mike’s stomach flips. “Interrupted?”

She nods again. “Hopper.”

It’s often like this when they’re together. Short, one-word responses. In school, she tries to speak as best she can, but around Mike she’s more quiet, more comfortable being herself. It’s hard for her, still, Mike knows. It’s hard for him, too, to keep up with her bluntness sometimes. “Um, well...” 

“Is it like menstruation?” El asks, sitting up and shifting so she can look at him straight on. “A female thing?”

He. He just. “N-no,” he stutters. “Fucking is... I mean, in some contexts, it’s— it’s another term for sex. It isn’t just a female thing.” 

El’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Sexual intercourse? That’s what she meant?” 

Mike bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says meekly. 

She pauses, considering. “So, it’s just slang for sex.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why would I need to be careful about that? What would Max need to teach me?”

Those last words burn in his mind. “Um, I don’t think she… ” _Stop being such a dweeb, Mike_. “She didn’t mean just sexual reproduction. She meant, the act of having sex with somebody.” The words rush out of him. El doesn’t appear to understand, giving him her classic mouth-breather look. “You know,” he tries again, but she obviously doesn’t. “When we kiss? That’s a part of it.”

El’s frown deepens. “We haven’t had sex.”

 _Fuck_. “No! I mean, yes, of course we haven’t had sex.” He’s failing so hard at this. He stops, taking her hands in his and looking her in the eye. “What Max meant was, sex is something really, really special that happens between people. And, usually, those people really like each other, and they want to do it. But, sometimes… people are creepy, you know? And they have sex with someone whether or not they want it.” 

Something clears in her expression. “So, she was trying to protect me from bad people? Who would violate me?” 

Mike nods. “Y-Yeah. I mean, you could probably take them, it's just—” 

“Better to use words than powers, I know,” El answers automatically. She looks down and away, brown curls falling into her face. Her hair has gotten long, or at least it’s grown fast. She can tie it back easily. When she’s feeling particularly annoyed, she puts it up. She’s so pretty, Mike thinks.  

They don’t belong together. 

It hits him, hard and fast. He backtracks quickly, mentally rephrasing. They _do_ belong together. They’re friends. They like each other. They need each other. They’d die for each other. She’s beautiful, and Mike loves her. He’ll always love her. But…  

But. It’s not enough. Not even that; it’s not _right_. Not quite. They’re restricted, somehow. And Mike doesn’t want her to feel that way, after everything. It’s not fair. She’s never said anything, but Mike can tell. She needs something more, something different. He just doesn’t know...

“Do you want to have sex with me?” It sort of rolls off his tongue, and he has to physically clap his hands over his mouth to convey the embarrassment. 

El blinks, a pink coating her cheeks. “I think so.”

His brain stutters to a stop. Carefully, he removes his hands from his mouth, putting one down to hide his awkward fucking boner. But El spots it, curious. “Is there something wrong with your penis?”

He yelps. “ _Jesus_ , El, don’t say penis out loud.” 

“Why not?”

“Just… trust me.” 

El gives him a look he can't quite place. Then, much to Mike's surprise, she crawls closer and rests her hand _there_.

He splutters. “El— what—”

There’s a new heat from her touch, and he feels it growing and. Well. He never really thought her powers would be useful for _this_ , but clearly he hasn’t thought about it enough, because goddamn. 

Still. “El, what are you doing?” he hisses, trying to block her hand. 

“Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to—” 

“Not _right now_ ,” Mike gestures toward the ceiling. “Parents? Hopper would _kill_ me.”

Realization dawns on her face. “Right. Privacy.” She pauses, pouting. “But we never have privacy.” 

Mike can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry, El.” He squeezes her wrist gently, shifting her hand off his lap. “If we want to, we’ll find a way.” 

~<:>~

They do have sex, months later.

They’re both sixteen, going on seventeen. And it does happen in Mike’s basement. He makes sure his parents are out, and will be for a few hours. And, because he happens to be home from college, he enlists Steve to buy him condoms, because there’s no way in hell Mike’s walking into a store and getting anything remotely related to… that. 

Steve teases him relentlessly. “I hope this is worth it, Wheeler,” he mocks, handing Mike the box. “These cost a lot of money you’re gonna have to pay me back.” 

“Shut up, Steve,” Mike retorts, ignoring the embarrassment that surfaces when he realizes that he’s holding a box of fucking condoms.

Steve reaches up to ruffle his hair, still just tall enough to do so. “Nah, I’m joking. It was a joke.” He winks. “Have fun kid. Treat her right.” As he heads out the front, he points back, shouting, “You’re welcome!” 

The door slams. “Thanks,” Mike murmurs, examining the label. Good, nothing in these he’s allergic to. That would just be downright awful.

El gets there a few minutes earlier than planned, but luckily his parents are already gone. He nearly trips down the stairs, slides up to the back door, and opens it, catching it smoothly with his other hand. 

“Why, hello,” he intones, attempting a raised eyebrow. 

She giggles, stepping in and shutting the door behind her, only to turn and wrap her arms around his neck, sending him stumbling backward. He manages an “Oh, okay” before she’s kissing him, tightening her grip. 

They make it to the kitchen, which is where the box of condoms sits, open on the counter. Mike practically runs into the marble slab, with the way El’s pressed against him. Honestly, she’s never been this forceful, and it's mildly terrifying. But also nice. But they really need to pause and find a place to do this, because she's already mentally teasing him and he just. It's an issue. 

“Okay, okay, El,” he laughs, pulling away when she kisses his cheeks. “El.” Pressing his hands firmly against her waist to keep her there. “We should find a bed.”

Frowning, she locks her hands tighter together. “I can make you happy without a bed.” 

Mike is fucking sure she can, and he tries not to die outwardly. “True. But I want to make you happy, too. And I don’t have telekinetic powers, so… ” He looks her in the eye. “Bed.”

They end up in the basement, because there is a mattress down there, and because Holly might be back from her friend’s house earlier than his parents, and she never comes down here, so. It works. 

Maybe they should take it slow, but they’ve waited like two-thirds of a year, so things escalate. Especially with the whole touch-me-without-touching-me thing that’s happening, because El’s going a little out of control. Mike fumbles with his belt, lips still pressed to hers, only to feel it whip out of his grasp and fly across the room. She uses her hands to pull his pants down, but they only get to his knees before they fall back onto the mattress.

Despite themselves, they laugh, trying to defuse the awkwardness a bit. Mike sits up to pull his shirt over his head, after which El physically grabs it and tosses it away. Then, she pins him back down with her powers and removes her own blouse, bright pink bra underneath. She leans forward, sliding her hands into his and shifting them above his head, kissing him slow and soft.

The problem is too many clothes. His underwear, her skirt. He makes a noise against her mouth, still unable to move his hands to touch her. In response, she rocks harder, moving her mouth down to his jaw, neck, chest. 

“El,” he breathes. “Let me take these off.” He squirms as she mentally teases his dick. “ _El._ ”

For a second, she ignores him, too focused on sucking at his collarbone. But then, she takes matters into her own hands, tugging at the hem, only to growl in frustration. “Too slow.” Mike hears a rip, and oh god, did she just—

Rip his underwear down the middle telekinetically and discard it next to them, yes.

Mike groans internally, moans externally. His dick is fully exposed now, and she eyes it carefully. He cranes his neck to watch her. After a few seconds, she glances at the box that Mike dropped on the floor, reaching out and commanding it to her. Lifts the flaps and pulls one out, regarding it with confusion.

“A contraceptive?” she infers.

Mike nods, sitting up. “Here, let me open it.” 

She pointedly does not, trying first on her own, then sighs and gives up, tearing it open as it hovers midair between them. When she goes to grab it, she recoils, and Mike laughs, leaning back on his elbows. “It’s slimy, yeah?” El nods, upper lip curled. “Lubricant,” Mike explains. “It helps.” 

“With what?” She sounds so disgusted it’s funny. 

“El… ” Mike starts, then pauses. “Do you… really want to do this?”

She looks at him, expression softening. “Yes. Do you?”

Mike nods rapidly. “It’s just… ” 

It’s just that he has no idea what he’s doing for the most part, and yes, he’s seen some pornographic films, and he’s read stuff, and he and the boys use Steve as a consultant for all things sex-related, so it’s not that he doesn’t _know_ ; he’s not quite sure what or how El learned, but that’s not exactly his business, and she does what she pleases, so he’s pretty certain that even if she hasn’t seen or read anything, she will do this, as she has already, her own way.

But he’s still kind of freaking out. Because that’s what Mike Wheeler does. Internally, but sometimes externally. Right now both.

“I just… want to make sure everything’s okay. For you.”

El purses her lips, shooting him that look again. “I think I can handle it.” 

Without further ado, she lifts the condom out of the package, fingers hovering just around the material so she doesn’t have to touch it. Slowly lowers it down onto Mike’s skin, and the second it makes contact, he feels a curling reaction. It just increases as she slides it all the way down, and he has to bite his lip to keep from cursing.  

But then, once it’s situated, she puts her hands on his chest, lifts herself up, and sinks down carefully. 

 _Holy shit_.

El throws her head back and digs her fingernails into his stomach. Mike doesn’t really know what to do except groan, clutching at the edges of the mattress. This is— it’s— his brain can’t keep up. And then she starts to move, and that sends them both over the edge.

“Shit,” Mike utters. “Fuck.”

He wonders if she’s extra good at this because of her powers. With his minimal experience, he wouldn’t assume to know.

After an embarrassingly short amount of time, they’re finished, and Mike doesn’t think he’s ever sworn so much in one setting. They’re slick with sweat, gasping for air, slowly dying down. El brings her head forward, and Mike sees that there’s blood coming out of her nose.

That’s when he realizes that they’re floating.

She must have subconsciously levitated the mattress. Or consciously, he doesn’t really know. But it appears she’s paying this no mind, crumpling forward onto Mike without bothering to wipe her nose. He starts laughing, shaking the foundation of their anti-gravity, and they fall the two feet back to the ground. El starts, then lays back down and quivers, hands on his chest. “That,” she breathes. “Was amazing.” 

“Yeah,” Mike sighs. Then, without thinking, “Totally tubular.”

El raises her head, and it pretty much frightens away his erection, because she’s glaring so hard, and the blood. But he cracks a smile, which makes her smile, and then they’re both laughing. She rests her head against his heartbeat, and he brings a hand to her hair, holding them there for a few minutes. 

Then, El pushes herself back up. “Do you want to do it again?” 

Mike’s in love. He’s in love. “Yeah,” he responds enthusiastically. 

“Right now?”

“ _Hell_ , yeah.” 

Her bra is still on, along with his pants, technically, but she gets rid of those quickly.

~<:>~

They do it a few more times before breaking up. It’s definitely not the sex that’s the problem. Just, eventually, what Mike thought comes true. El does need more.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.  

They’re sitting on the edge of her bed, knees touching awkwardly. Mike has his hands clasped in front of him and he shrugs, trying to ignore the sinking in his heart.

“It’s okay.” And he means it. Not that this won’t be hard—harder than anything he’s ever done—but he’ll do it for her. For them.

“Mike.” El’s searching his face, brows drawn. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Mike gives a small smile, reaching over to take her hand. “I’m not. It’s okay.” 

She frowns. “So... you want it, too?”

“I don’t _want_ this, El,” he starts. “It’s just... ” 

It’s just that they can’t keep this up. There’s something missing, and it’s not really either of their faults. Maybe it’s because El has learned so much, and she doesn’t need him anymore. Which is a horrible thing to think, and Mike knows it’s not true the second he thinks it. She’ll always need him, and he’ll always need her. Or maybe it’s just complicated. But this, breaking up, feels right. Not _good_ , but right.

“It’s just what happens.” He shrugs again. “People break up.”  

El stands, suddenly, and Mike looks up to see tears in her eyes. 

“Mike,” she says, wringing her hands. Paces once, then turns back, sighing shakily. “I love you.” 

He’s more than a little shocked, but he stands, moving to comfort her. “Hey, it’s okay, El.” She shakes her head, stepping back weakly as he approaches. Carefully, he puts his arms around her, and ultimately she gives into the hug, wrapping her arms over his shoulders. “I love you, too,” Mike says, rubbing circles on her back.

A small sob escapes and she squeezes him tighter. He repeats the words, trying not to cry himself. “It’s okay.” 

They pull apart, foreheads pressed together. “I don’t want to leave you,” El whispers.

Mike places his hands on her cheeks. “You’re not leaving me. Okay?” She nods, hesitant, then vigorously. “We’ll still be here. No matter what.” 

El’s eyes shift up to his, dark and open. So different from the first time Mike saw them, but somehow still the same. “Promise?”  

His throat tightens. “Promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Scallison break-up scene so I low-key tried to mirror it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike discovering bisexuality-- Mike & Max and Mike & Will-- post-season 2, into the beyond
> 
> *Trigger warning for the f-slur again* (more than once)

In the fall of ninth grade, Mike learns about bisexuality.

It is, of course, through talking to Max—she’s the most socially active of the group. All six of them are behind Dustin’s house, for a camping-thing-turned-sleepover. Probably the last time they’ll be outside until after winter passes, and it’s freezing. But it’s important that they have this time together before sleepovers in high school become a thing of the past (which they never really do). 

Max is on a slight rant, about how stupid it is that she and El almost weren’t allowed to come. She’s very animated when she gets like this, countering her usual poker-face with wild hand gestures and raised eyebrows. Both of which are happening right now. “It’s ridiculous,” she scoffs. “I mean, just because we’re girls?”

Dustin raises his hand. “I think it might have more to do with the fact that you’re dating Lucas and El’s dating Mike.” 

Max and Lucas shoot him the exact same look. “Shut up, Dustin,” Max retorts, and Lucas elbows him. 

“Ow— what?” Dustin mumbles, putting his hand down.

“That’s not what I meant,” the redhead continues, settling back against her sleeping bag. “I meant that our society is so focused on the divide between genders that it becomes impossible to live without conforming to one belief.”  

Mike blinks, looking around the room. They’re all internally impressed, but also kind of tired of the speeches when all they want to do is game and talk about movies. Mike thinks it’s important, more and more, but he doesn’t know exactly how the others feel. 

“Well... isn’t it different in California?” Will pipes up curiously. Leaning forward, he looks intrigued, hopeful even. 

Max shrugs. “I guess. But that doesn’t change the widespread national culture based on stupid heterosexual patriarchal values.” 

The tent falls quiet. Mainly because she’s right, but also because she used an ‘h’ word and the boys aren’t necessarily inclined to talk about stuff bordering on... that. Especially because... yeah.

“Heterosexual?” El asks. 

Um. Mike looks around at the others for permission, but Max doesn’t even pause, softening her expression for El. “It means operating under the assumption that females and males are the only partnerships that can form,” she explains calmly. “Heterosexuality is a female liking a male, or the other way around.” 

El blinks, focused. She’s got that look in her eyes. “So, there are other kinds of partnerships?" 

Max flushes slightly, looking down. “Well, yes. I mean, I could just as easily like you the same way I like Lucas, or Lucas could like another boy the same way he likes me.”

Dustin coughs violently. Will goes white. Mike and Lucas glance at each other, then look away pointedly, cheeks dark red.

Well. That couldn’t have been any more awkward.

“You mean, you and I could... date?” El continues, oblivious to the discomfort of everyone else. Shit, Will looks so fucking anxious. He’s not even moving. Mike regrets everything in his life.

“Okay,” he interjects. “Yes, El.” She shifts her attention to him. “Yes, you and Max could technically... date, but, like she was saying, society doesn’t really... accept people like that, so it’s better if you don’t at all.”

El frowns. “Why aren’t they accepted?”

“It’s complicated,” Lucas answers. Mike tries not to look at him, but his stomach flips and his face heats up all the same. “It’s just like some people don’t want me and Max to be together.” 

They’ve talked about this before, and it alights in El’s eyes. “Because of your skin.” 

“Yeah.” 

Mike glances over at Will, resisting the urge to put a hand on the other boy’s knee, because that would not help anything. But he wants to comfort him so much, it hurts. 

Max does it for him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she continues, voice raised. “People think that just because something is different they have to fear it, call it out. Like us,” she adds, looking up at each of them. 

“Us?” Dustin asks, confused. Mike sees where she’s going with it.

“Yes, us. How many times have we been excluded? How many times have people called us nerds? How many times have people judged us, messed with us, laughed at us, when they don’t have a clue what we’ve been through?” All around, heads are nodding. El’s gaze hasn’t left Max’s face. “We shouldn’t be punished for not fitting in. Being different doesn’t mean you’re a freak.” 

“That’s kind of exactly what it means.”

“ _Dustin_!”

She’s glaring hard enough to rival El, who is, in fact, also glaring beside her. Dustin backs down immediately.

“What I’m trying to say is there’s nothing wrong with it, with who you are. If you’re black or white or Asian or Native American, if you like boys, girls, both, neither! No one is a freak.”

“Both?” Mike blurts. _Damnit why is he like this_. Now all eyes are on him. Including Will’s. He swallows. “Um, you can like both?”

Max flicks her gaze over to him, scrutinizing, and he tries not to squirm under it. “Of course you can,” she says finally. “I do.” 

~<:>~

After that, Max won’t leave him alone.

They’re not the best of friends, comparatively. In the group, it’s usually Dustin and Lucas, Mike and Will, El and Max. Or Mike and El, Lucas and Max, Dustin and Will. Or Lucas and Mike, Dustin and Max, Will and El— basically, every pairing except the two of them.  

Max doesn’t seem to care. That’s just how she is. Clearly she didn’t care about outing herself to them, so why should she feel awkward about anything? It’s why El likes her so much. 

Mike, on the other hand...

It gets annoying. Particularly because they have the same free period, and she’s taken to skating up behind him and dropping her arms onto his head while he’s trying to do work. Which subsequently breaks his focus and messes up his hair. The nerve.

Today, he’s too absorbed in his math to notice her approaching. So, he jumps very hard when she slides in beside him, knocking their shoulders together. “Hey, asshole.” 

Lucas is stalker, Dustin is loser, Will is shrimp. For some reason, El is just El, and Mike got stuck with asshole. He sighs, shrugging her away. “Could you leave me alone for one period?” 

“Nope,” she grins. “You need me.”

He scoffs. “I don’t—”

“Forty-two is wrong,” she cuts him off, pointing to the paper. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as he stares. “You did the equation backwards. It should come out as positive.” She glances up to see why he’s not following her instructions, and, noticing his glare, she rolls her eyes. “If you don’t listen to me, you’re going to get it wrong, and eventually I’ll graduate as valedictorian and that’s not how it’s supposed to go.” 

Apparently, Max can only be salutatorian, because she isn’t ‘nerdy enough’ to be the smartest in their class, and Mike is. Why she cares is beyond him.

“Why don’t you just get something wrong and even it out?” he retorts, erasing the equation anyway.

“Because, we both have to do our absolute best and make sure that nobody else can surpass us,” she says like it’s obvious. “Come on, we’ve had this planned. You can’t bail on me.” 

“ _You’ve_ had this planned,” Mike mutters, scrawling. Max punches his shoulder. “Ow!” 

“Do you understand why you got it wrong?” she demands. 

“Yes, I do! It was a small mistake.” 

She checks the rest of his work just to make sure. After that they sit in silence as Mike finishes. It’s actually pretty pleasant. Some of the other kids are being a little loud, but most of the noise is distant. The sun’s just starting to come out again, and it warms them.

“How are things with Will?” Max asks, breaking the silence. 

Mike stops in the middle of writing an eight. “With Will?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “How’s he doing? You know, after everything.”

“Why are you asking me? You spend just as much time with him,” Mike answers, turning back to the problem.

Max snorts. “No, I don’t. And I haven’t known him long enough to tell when something’s off.” 

Mike’s stomach flips at that.

Because something _is_ off. Will’s been acting weird recently, which Mike contributed to his nightmares, and the fact that the school year’s only got a month and a half left. At first. Last week, Will didn’t show up at school the entirety of the day, and he said nothing about it. Came back the next morning like nothing had happened. Mike has tried asking him on multiple occasions, but all he gets is, “It was nothing. Just needed to get away.” 

And Will— he’s quiet? But not silent. For the past few days, he’s been silent. Nothing in class, and barely three words when they hang out. It’s disturbing. Max must have noticed it or something, and now she’s wondering if it’s normal for him. Mike squints at her. Or she’s just trying to get him to open up about Will.

His _feelings_ and all that.  

He kind of regrets telling her, but it’s not like she gave him much of a choice. She confronted him a week after the whole camping ordeal. “Something happened between you and Lucas, didn’t it?” 

Face turning red, he spluttered. “W-What? No!" 

“Oh, don’t even bother denying it. I can see it on your face.” Mike tried not to drop his books, panicked. _Shit. Fuck. Shit_.

“Lucas did the same thing when I asked him,” the redhead mused, leaning against the locker. After a few seconds, she reached out to pat his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” And strode off, skateboard in hand. 

Which is what led to the invasion of his free periods, the midnight conversations over the walkie, and his sort-of-but-not-really confession that he probably cares about Will more than he should. 

And now here they are, sitting side by side on some small, beat-up bleachers. An unlikely pairing, but a necessary one. He finds, in that moment, that he doesn’t really mind it. Max is... cool. She gives Mike the kind of comfort nobody else can, not even Nancy, though he’d never admit that to either of them. Even if she does tease him, aggravate him, make him jealous... it’s nice to have her there. Just, to know. To understand. 

“Maybe,” Mike says finally, shrugging.

Max raises her eyebrows. “Maybe what?” 

“Maybe there is something off.” He pauses, scribbling his last answer. “I don’t know.” 

There’s silence for a moment, save the bleachers creaking as Max shifts, elbows on her knees. She watches him fold the journal closed and tuck it back into his bag before speaking. “So... are you going to talk to him?” 

Mike sighs. “I don’t... know. Usually he tells me when he’s ready.” 

“Oh, come on, Wheeler,” Max groans. “Initiate something for once!” 

Glaring, he kicks her foot. “Screw you.”  

Grinning, she retaliates, hitting his bicep hard enough that he topples sideways, catching himself with his wrist. “Jesus!” 

Max laughs. “Lightweight.”  

~<:>~

Will does tell him, or rather, Mike finds out.

It’s not until after the year’s over, well into June, at Will’s house. Just the two of them. Honestly, they see each other so much during the summer, the whole group especially, that additional sleepovers seem excessive, but. It was at Will’s request, so Mike shows up with nothing but a backpack and a pillow under his arm. 

They’re laughing at something in the latest _X-Men_ comic. Will’s been kind of obsessed with re-reading them, since he’s just gotten his back from El, who wanted to read every copy the boys had between them when she discovered what the series was about. (She might go as Jean Gray for Halloween this year. That way no one will question her powers. They’ve talked about it.) 

Will turns the page to see the dreaded, “To Be Continued,” he reads aloud in a dramatic voice.  

Mike slaps the floor. “No!” 

Will laughs. “It wasn’t that interesting,” he shrugs, tossing it away onto the pile. Mike leans back against Will’s bed, gazing steadily at the smaller boy. Who is, actually, not that much smaller than him anymore. Over time it seems Mike’s just gotten taller, lankier, passing Nancy in height, but still skinny as a rail. Will, on the other hand, grew into himself this past year, gained some muscle and handful of inches, and he’s looking more and more like Jonathan every day. Filling out, anyway. As much as they’re similar, Mike doesn’t think Will could ever lose those huge eyes.

The eyes which catch him staring and crinkle at the corners. “What?”

Mike presses his lips together, amused. Shakes his head. “Nothing.” 

Will scoots back to lean next to him, forearms propped on his knees. “Okay,” he says after a moment, swiveling his head in Mike’s direction. “Spill it.” 

“Spill what?” Mike asks, almost laughing at the sass written in Will’s expression.

“You always get that look when you want to tell me something,” Will answers, splaying his hands. 

A warm bubbling sensation twists Mike’s stomach. First, because he’s right. Second, because he just gets that way sometimes, that feeling, when they’re, well. Together, reading _X-Men_ , laughing like nothing ever happened. Like they didn’t almost lose this. Mike tries not to think about the fact that he would have gone crazy anyway, just alone. 

“Okay,” he confesses. “Maybe I did want to tell you something.”  

Will cocks an eyebrow, waiting. Shit, Mike doesn’t know how to do this. “Um,” he starts. “I... ” 

What is he going to say, exactly? No clue. He’s trying to ask if the reason Will missed school and acted weird for weeks before returning to normal was because of someone calling him a faggot again, because that’s what it was the first time, and Mike’s so, so scared that Will thinks it’s okay to be bullied because he’s never known anything else, even from his own father, and yes, he probably subconsciously knows that, but he’s been through so much and Mike just wishes he could take it all back, wishes he’d followed him home that night, wishes the Demogorgon had taken him instead, because Will deserves the world and Mike wants to give it to him, wants to tell him all his secrets, wants their friendship to be like it was before puberty spoiled everything and made a mess of their lives.

“I think I might be bisexual,” is what he says instead.

It just sort of... comes out. 

Will’s quiet for a moment. Neither of them are looking at each other. The longer the silence gets, the hotter Mike’s face becomes. _Shit_. This isn’t what he wanted to do, goddamnit, he’s such a mess. What the hell. 

“Oh,” Will finally speaks. “Really?”

“Pretty sure,” Mike rushes. “I mean, I’m... almost positive, actually.” 

It takes another few seconds of silence for Will to nod, still not looking at him. “Cool,” he says, shrugging. “I mean, that’s—”

Mike reaches out to touch him, and the other boy flinches, hard. Their eyes finally meet, a shocked tension between them. Guilt floods Mike’s stomach and he panics. “Will—” 

“What are you doing?” Will bites, voice low.

Trying to ignore the hurt in his chest, Mike moves closer. “Will,” he starts, voice nearly breaking. He has to say something, anything. To divert the attention. _Focus, Wheeler_. “What... what happened in April?” 

Will’s eyes change, open. “What?”

Mike can’t bear to look at him anymore, focusing instead at a spot on the floor between them. “You went dark,” he says quietly. Fiddles with the carpet strings. “I didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know what to do or how to bring it up, and I was worried.” He feels tears start to burn in his throat. “And when I asked you, you said you were fine, but I didn’t believe you, because—” 

He swallows, choked up. “Because I know you. And I know when you’re not fine, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re... alone. That you have to do everything alone. Because you don’t.” 

He looks up, finally, to see Will’s unwavering gaze, and that feeling settles in his stomach again. “You’ve got me,” he declares feebly. Pulling at the carpet, sucking in his tears. “You’ve always got me.”  

There’s a hand on his, stopping his shaky movements. Mike looks up and suddenly, Will’s hugging him. Really, hugging him. Arms around his neck, holding him awkwardly across their knees. But Mike holds him back, pressing his face into the other boy’s shoulder. “I’m okay,” he hears Will whisper. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.” Mike squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t let go until he stops shaking.

When they pull apart, Will’s crying a little bit, too. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, wiping his face. “I didn’t mean to overreact.” 

“No," Mike sniffs, shaking his head. “You didn’t overreact.”

“I did,” Will says firmly. Looks at the floor with a bitter laugh. “I should have come to you. I _could_ have, I just—”

Mike gets it. There is no easy way to talk about this, and after everything, Will still has a hard time communicating basic emotions. That’s how he and El became so close. 

“Maybe,” Mike nods. “But it’s not always that simple.”

Will meets his gaze. “It should be.” 

“Yeah, well, since the upside-down, nothing’s really been simple or as it should be.” 

They’re quiet again, searching each other’s eyes for… something. Recognition? Permission? Some way to move past this point. Mike can’t tell if Will wants to talk about it anymore, but he never explicitly said anything, so Mike feels inclined to ask.

“So...” he starts, breaking the stare. “What happened?”

As if on cue, Will begins fidgeting, shoulders slumped forward. “Um...” He shrugs. “I just... I don’t know. I mean, I know why I—” 

“Was it something Garrett said?” Mike offers gently. One of the recurring mouth-breathers from middle school.

"Thomas," Will corrects, pausing for a beat. “He saw me, sitting alone, waiting for my mom to come pick me up and... started, just, spewing a bunch of stuff at me.” He pauses, breathing. “Called me a freak, a loser, a-a nerd, too, I think?” Another pause, longer. Will bites his lip. “Said it was a pretty faggy thing for a boy to be so close to his mom.”

Mike’s heart jumps into his throat, snapping his gaze to watch Will’s face. “He said that?”

“Yeah.” 

Anger burns at the base of Mike’s neck. “What a _dick_ ,” he spits. 

Will shrugs again. “He’s not wrong.” 

“Yes, he is, Will,” Mike interjects, but Will stops him from going off, placing a hand on the taller boy’s shoulder.

“I didn’t mean it was okay for him to say that. But...” He removes the hand, somewhat jerkily. “He’s not wrong. About me.” 

Mike thinks he might be dreaming. Not a nightmare, but the kind of dream you want to wake up from, realize that nothing ever happened, and relax. But he’s not waking up, as Will gives him a tight, sad smile. “As long as we’re confessing, I guess I should admit I’m a faggot, right?” 

Nope. It’s a nightmare. A confusing, terrifying sequence. Mike’s throat is swollen, dry. “No,” he utters, hoarse. “Will, you’re not a faggot.”

“I don’t like girls,” Will responds, with such sincerity that Mike wants to cry or hug him or kiss him or all three.

“So, you’re gay,” he corrects. “That doesn’t make you a faggot. That word, it’s...” He shakes his head. “It’s an insult and you’re worth so much more than that. You’re not what people think. Who cares if you don’t like girls? You’re not a freak, and neither am I. We just are who we are.”  

Tears pool in Will’s eyes and he opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Closes it, tries again. “I—”

“Shut up,” Mike says softly, wrapping himself around the other boy as he cries. Finds it upsettingly familiar and holds on tighter.

“It’s so hard, Mike,” Will sobs. “It’s so hard.” 

“I know,” Mike whispers, shakily stroking his hair. “I know. I’m sorry.”

They stay there for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor William :(


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Lucas-- college style
> 
> *more sexual content but this time they're old enough*

The third time Mike kisses Lucas, they’re nineteen.

Only a year into college, just after Mike’s birthday. The two of them end up going to school within ten miles of each other, Lucas at BU and Mike at Brandeis. The others aren't all that far away, though. Moving to the west coast was out of the question, and they all chose schools in the northeast anyway. Relatively.

Will’s probably the closest to Lucas and Mike, at Cornell. El and Max are at RIT, and Dustin stayed the closest to home at Oberlin. After the season of breakups— Mike and El, Max and Lucas, Nancy and Jonathan (although those two got back together quickly, as usual)— El and Max grew very close. Or, clos _er_. There was a bit of awkward tension, obviously, resolved only by the fact that the group had just one more year together and didn’t want to waste it worrying about something stupid. At least, that’s how Max put it. And they all enthusiastically agreed.

Graduation was fucking hard. Mike’s pretty sure he cried the most, in public and behind closed doors. El must have been a close second. They’re the sensitive ones, after all. 

It’s actually better, just being friends, Mike thinks; that’s why they broke up in the first place. Yes, there will always be that part of him that aches when he looks at her, that wants to be with her all the time, but it’s fading. And it will fade with time. After two years, he’s as over it as he can be.

On the other hand, Lucas.

Mike’s pretty decently okay with the fact that he likes boys. Men. Males? Guys. And the fact that his affection for females hasn’t diminished in the slightest no longer bothers him. He is a bisexual. He’s bi. He likes both. It’s fine.

However.

The rest of the world still seems to have a problem with it. Mike knows that, and he knows they’re unlikely to change their minds anytime soon. Hell, people are still iffy about interracial marriage. 

Which brings him back to Lucas. 

They’ve stayed in contact as much as they can. Mainly through letters, phone calls (with the cheap plastic phone Mike has to hook into the landline). But, every once in a while, Mike’ll get up the courage to try the walkie. 

They’ve only really used it once or twice- for emergencies, since Lucas doesn’t want his roommate at BU to make fun of him. (Mike’s roommate eats peanut butter cups out of a giant glass jar, listens to Mariah Carey, and never says more than three words at a time, so Mike doubts a call to his best friend using a slightly outdated walkie talkie will really make him the uncool one.)

Brendon’s out of the room when Mike turns on the channel. He’s greeted by the familiar static; presses the PTT. “Lucas.” He pauses. Come to think of it, he didn’t actually plan what he was going to say. “I...” he starts hesitantly. “I need to talk to you. Over.” 

The response is immediate. _“Thought you were just gonna leave me hanging.”_ Lucas’s deep voice crackles through. Mike smiles. _“What is it? You okay? Over.”_

“Yeah,” Mike answers quickly. “Yes, I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong. Over.” 

_“Then what the hell are you doing on the channel, Wheeler? Over.”_

There’s both irritation and amusement in his tone, so Mike figures it’s safe to continue. “Um,” he says. “There was a line for the phone. And I wanted to talk to you. Over.”

This time, Lucas is the one to pause. _“You said you needed to talk to me before. Which is it? Over.”_

Mike stifles a sigh, forgetting that Lucas can’t actually hear anything but static. He figured Lucas would be uptight about using the walkie for something so... stupid.

“Well.” He rolls off of his bed. “I’m not sure, exactly.” Reaches the desk, over which various library books and pages are scattered. “I found something. Over.” 

He hears the exasperation on the other end. _“Be a bit more specific? Over.”_

“That article we came across over winter break,” Mike supplies, leafing through one of the texts until he sees the picture. “The faceless man. Over.” 

Static reigns for a solid ten seconds before Lucas responds wearily. _“Mike. I thought we were done talking about this. Over.”_

“No, not even close!” Mike retorts, bringing the walkie up with his left hand. “If there’s even a chance that other places have seen it, we have to be on guard. Over.” 

_“Mike.”_ He hears the finality in Lucas’s voice. _“Those are old hoaxes. There is no ‘other gate’.”_

“You don’t know that!” Mike interrupts. “We should ask El. Over.” 

_“No, we shouldn’t,”_ Lucas counters. _“She doesn’t need us to bring that back. She wouldn’t know anyways, and besides, no other places are using that kind of tech.”_ Mike frowns. How does he know? _“There’s nothing to worry about, okay? Calm down. Over.”_

Mike stares at the walkie in disbelief, before pressing the button. “So you want me to just forget about all this evidence and pretend that everything’s okay? Like nothing ever happened? Like we’re just normal college students with big dreams about advancing the world of science?” 

He lets go, allowing the static to filter through. It only fuels his anger. How can he be the only one who cares about remembering the past, about protecting them? So what if it’s been six years? That doesn’t mean the upside down is just _gone_. He has to do everything he can to make sure nothing brings it back. Why can’t Lucas see that? Mike’s about ready to throw the walkie across the room when he hears the telltale click. 

_“You know, you’re not the only one who worries about this.”_

He sounds different, somber. It’s heavier than the usual tone he takes when trying to calm Mike down. Despite himself, Mike decides to shut up and listen to what the other boy has to say.

 _“Max,”_ Lucas continues. _“She got nightmares for months afterwards. I mean, I know Will had the worst of it, but for her? She moved to a new town, had to make new friends, and we turned out to be more fucked up than she ever could have imagined. Got her involved in all our shit.”_ He pauses. _“And Dustin came to me one night, crying about Mews. How much it upset his mom and all that. He apologized for Dart about a million times afterwards.”_

Mike remembers Dustin sitting them all down to explain his reasoning for harboring the demodog. When he laid down the loyalty law for good, and they made vows to always tell each other the truth. It was an emotional speech; El gave him the biggest hug at the end of it. 

_“And El. She still gets scared sometimes. Afraid that somebody’s after her, even though she can read minds and shit, and we both know that no one could ever hurt her. That she’s safe.”_ There’s a shift on the other end, like something running over carpet. _“You’re safe, Mike. We all are. Over.”_

Unwelcome tears push at Mike’s eyes and he swallows. “What about you?” he asks, trying not to let his voice betray him. “You still get scared by all this? Over.” 

A brief moment of silence. _“Sure,”_ Lucas responds. _“I get scared sometimes. Mostly for the others... for you.”_ Mike’s stomach flips as Lucas sighs. _“I just don’t want you to obsess over this, okay? Just because something bad happened to us when we were younger doesn’t mean we don’t have the right to a normal life. Hell, let’s fucking be those students with big dreams trying to advance the world of science.”_ Mike lets out a laugh, as does Lucas. _“Over.”_

He was wrong. So wrong. How quickly did he forget how much the others must have been affected? Will and El, especially. And _Max_. Jesus, he needs to call her later. And he hasn’t been in contact with Dustin since break. He’s a terrible fucking friend. But he’ll fix it, he thinks, setting his jaw. He always does.

 _“Mike?”_ The sudden crackle makes him jump. _“You still there? Over.”_

He pinches the PTT. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m still here.” He sniffs, attempting to be subtle about it. “Um, Lucas, I—” Presses his eyes closed. “Thank you. For listening. And... thanks for not giving up on me. Over.” 

_“Never will. Even if you are an asshole. Over.”_

Mike can’t stop his grin from spreading. “You chose me, remember?”

 _“Yeah, of course I remember,”_ Lucas interrupts, amusement back in his tone. _“I bet you still couldn’t take someone that big without my help. Over.”_

Mike feels his cheeks heat up, and bites back a retort. “Sure, Sinclair.” 

They sit in silence for another minute before Lucas reinitiates. _“Hey, we should meet up soon.”_

For whatever reason, Mike’s surprised. They have met twice in Boston, but both were before the break. And somehow, Mike gets the feeling Lucas doesn’t want to do that again. He asks anyway. “What, you mean in the city somewhere? Over.” 

_“Nah, man,”_ Lucas laughs. _“I was thinking you could come over here. To BU. Over.”_

Mike’s eyes widen. “Seriously?” he asks. “You want me to come to your campus? Over.” 

_“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? Over.”_

“I don’t know,” Mike responds sarcastically. “Maybe because I’m such a fucking nerd I’d embarrass you in front of your ‘cool university friends’?” He air quotes the last bit, alone in his room.

 _“Come on, Mike,”_ Lucas teases. _“You’re way cooler than the dickheads over here. Trust me. Over.”_

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “Alright,” he says. “Fine. When would I come? Over.”

Lucas pauses for a moment. _“How’s this weekend? I’m free. Over.”_

 _This weekend?!_ Mike’s not sure he’s mentally prepared for that. “U-Um, okay,” he starts, scrambling to find his map of the Boston bus routes. “Do you mean Friday or Saturday? Over.” 

_“Friday, obviously,”_ Lucas scoffs. _“And then you can stay Saturday and go back Sunday. How does that sound? Over.”_

Mike finds the line he needs, outlined in blue, and traces it with his finger. “Good,” he says to himself, then picks up the walkie. “Um— good. I’ll be there Friday after class. Over.” 

_“Sure you can get here all by yourself?”_ Mike can almost see the smirk through the line.

“ _Yes, Mom,_ ” he mimics. “Over and out.” 

~<:>~

It’s actually harder than he thought.

At times like this, Mike misses the simplicity of his town, his bike. He knew how to get everywhere in Hawkins, and he didn’t need to wait for anything or anyone. The busy city schedule seriously screws him up in that regard.

He makes it to the BU gate, despite several missed stops and a few instances of stranger danger. Waves sarcastically at the bus occupants as it pulls away. Looking up, he realizes he’s at the south gate. Lucas lives in Danielsen, which is to the east of the arts and sciences campus. He’s not sure if Lucas will actually be in his room, since it’s around dinner time. But he has to start somewhere.

Walking across the grounds, no one pays him any mind. After all, he does look like a college student, and this campus is so big, it’s impossible to tell if he really goes here or not. He doesn’t know why he was panicking about that, but he was. He panics about a lot of things.

When he finally reaches the residence hall, Mike nearly has a heart attack over how many floors there are. Lucas is in room 815... Mike groans. There’s no way he’s climbing that many stairs if Lucas isn’t even up there. 

He decides to go in to the lobby and wait, see if he can catch Lucas coming from or going to dinner. There are a few people loitering around. Or not, if they live here. A tall brunette with a high, frizzy ponytail and purple boots keeps eyeing him, and the panic begins to rise again. What if she can tell he doesn’t live here? Mike grips the strap of his backpack, turning away. Just breathe and remain inconspicuous. He can do that. Just ignore her. 

But she walks over to him anyway, footsteps heavy and slow. She stops. “You don’t live on this floor.” It’s not a question.

Mike clears his throat. “No.” 

The brunette gives him a pitying look. “Are you lost?” 

_Kind of_. “No,” he repeats, firm. “I’m waiting for a friend.” She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “I don’t go here,” Mike explains, feeling guilty. “I’m just here for the weekend.” 

“Oh, I guessed that,” the brunette responds, gesturing to his rather overpacked bag. “I’ve never seen you in here before and the way you were standing, you just looked out of place.” 

Mike shoots her a subtle glare, but doesn’t say anything. After a moment, she asks, “Who are you waiting for?” 

Maybe it’s a little much to give out a name, but maybe it’s also a little much to assume that this college girl that kind of reminds him of Nancy is a spy for the government. Although, since she reminds him of Nancy, that’s entirely possible. “My friend, Lucas Sinclair.” 

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “Lucas Sinclair?” She gives him a once-over. “Never figured Lucas would go for such a twink.” 

Mike’s face flushes dark red. “We— we’re friends from back home,” he stammers, not looking at her. “We grew up in Indiana... um, so do you— I take it you know him, then.” _Well said, Mike._

The brunette shrugs. “Sure. I know him. I know he’s not here, if that’s what you’re asking.” She picks at a chip of paint in the wall with her very apparently fake nails. “He usually spends Fridays in Cheney. I can take you there, if you want.” 

Her eyes are very blue, Mike realizes. Startlingly blue. She’s sort of staring him down, so it’s hard not to notice. “Uh, sure,” he utters. “Yeah, that’d be great.” 

She waves him towards the door. “Come on, then.” 

They wave goodbye to her group of friends as they pass, and Mike receives confused stares. He shrugs, making one girl laugh. 

On their walk, the brunette barely stops talking; it’s like she’s giving him a tour of the campus. She also asks a lot of questions that Mike doesn’t know how to answer. He stays silent, mainly. Looking around at the trees, buildings, and people they pass. They’re about halfway to their destination (Mike received frequent updates) when he spots Lucas.

He’s wearing a red scarf and brown jacket, hurrying towards them. Paper bags in either hand and a backpack not quite as stuffed as Mike’s, but close. Mike can practically hear him panting, which is probably because he’s getting rapidly closer. Mike’s afraid he’ll run right past them, but then they catch eyes. 

“Mike?” Lucas lights up. “Hey!” 

“Hey— oh goddamnit!” is all Mike can get out as Lucas crashes into him, dropping one of the paper bags. “Hey,” he repeats, muffled by Lucas’s backpack. 

The other boy pulls back and laughs. “Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you, but you were late, so I figured I’d grab something to bring back to the hall and eat...” He trails off, seemingly just noticing the brunette, who now holds the forgotten paper bag in her outstretched hand. “Hey, Gloria.” 

“Hey, Lucas,” she says, handing the bag back to him. “I was just taking your _friend_ here over to meet you, but it looks like I’m no longer needed, so I’m just gonna continue this way.” She turns to Mike, gives him a pat on the shoulder. “I might see you later. If not, good luck!” Her ponytail bobs as she strides away.

Mike exchanges a look with Lucas, and they fall into step, heading back towards Danielsen. “So, you know that girl?”

“Gloria. Yeah.” Lucas shakes his head. “She’s a junior, but since she transferred, she’s in two of my classes. Real crazy one.” 

“You like her, then,” Mike teases, earning him a light shove.

“She’s alright. Funny.” 

Mike nods, shifting his bag. “Yeah...” he agrees, thinking back to the twink comment. “Funny.” 

~<:>~

They spend the rest of the night in Lucas’s room, eating pizza off the floor and using his roommate’s game console to play _Back to the Future_ with maximum banter, so loud that a few people drop by to join them. Lucas introduces Mike to Elise, Manny, and Tom. The five of them hang out for a bit of time, but eventually the trio leaves to go join a game of pool in the basement. 

Mike’s kind of glad they do. While it was fun to geek out with Lucas’s friends, he still prefers one-on-one company, especially with someone who knows him as well as Lucas does. (Seriously. It’s shit to be around his college friends when he gets nervous or triggered, because they won’t understand. Mike’s only had one really bad nightmare that put him in the storage closet at the end of the hall, and Lucas was the only one that answered the walkie.) 

Lucas whistles, breaking Mike’s train of thought. “Damn. It’s ten to twelve already.” 

Mike uncrosses his legs and stands up, tossing the controller back onto the pile. “That late?”

“Yeah,” Lucas answers, distracted. “To be honest, I have no idea where my roommate is.” 

That garners a laugh. “Seriously?” 

“Hey, do you keep track of Brendon McMariah all the time?” Lucas shoots back, giving Mike the side-eye. The other boy just shrugs, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Well,” Lucas sighs. “If he’s not back by now, he won’t be here until Sunday.”

“Why Sunday?” Mike asks, surprised.

“He’s got a tournament this weekend. Lacrosse.” Lucas starts picking up around the room as Mike plops comfortably into the green bean bag chair. “I went to the first one, but I didn’t really like it. After all this time, still not a sports guy, I guess.” 

“Amen to that,” Mike agrees, tucking his knees to his chin.

Lucas squints at him from the opposite wall. “Are you gonna help or are you just gonna sit there?” 

“Just gonna sit here,” Mike mumbles through his shirt sleeve. As predicted, Lucas flips him off, but continues to clean up. 

Once he’s finished, he takes a seat across from Mike in the purple bean bag chair. Flips the hood of his sweatshirt up and leans back. “You okay?” 

“Fine.” Mike lets his lip pout. “Just lazy.”

Lucas grunts in agreement, kicking Mike’s bean bag. “Better get that checked out if you ever want to pass school.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mike says, without conviction, and Lucas just laughs.

“You always did have time to play D&D _and_ make the honor roll.” He shakes his head. “Mike Fucking Wheeler, certified genius.” 

Mike salutes, way too tired to focus on anything. They sit in silence for another minute before Lucas asks. “Do you want to talk about what happened Tuesday?”

What happened? Mike hyper-focused on something he knows could still be a danger and got called delirious by one of his best friends who went through the same supernatural shit. It's hard for something like that not to eat at him. Especially when he can't shake the nagging feeling that if he relaxes— even for a second— they'll all be in danger again. 

Shaking his head, Mike drops his face into his knees. “Can we go to sleep?” he says quietly.

When he glances up, Lucas looks surprised. “Uh— yeah,” the other boy says, standing up. “Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m sorry,” Mike adds. Shit, now he feels awkward. “I just don’t want to start thinking too much, because then I’ll...” He sighs. 

“I get it, Mike,” Lucas tells him gently. “It’s fine.” 

Mike’s throat tightens and he’s reminded once again of how much his friends do for him. How much Lucas does for him. It’s amazing any of them still want him around with all the shit he puts them through.

“So...” Lucas starts, looking around for Mike’s bag. “Did you bring anything to sleep in?” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Mike replies, standing too. “But I didn’t bring a pillow or a blanket or anything.” 

“It’s fine,” Lucas shrugs. “You can just take Jack’s bed.” 

The cleanliness of said bed looks questionable to Mike, but it’s better than the floor. “Thanks, I guess.” He grins. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“No way.” 

Mike heads to the bathroom to change and do his business, even though he and Lucas are close enough that he knows the other boy won’t mind. But Mike definitely minds, and okay, he might still have a slight crush on Lucas, which may not be slight at all, but it’s also just common courtesy to remove his pale, thin anatomy from others’ view. 

When he gets back, Lucas is wearing nothing but boxers and a fitted white t-shirt. “Hey,” he says, questioning.

Mike realizes he’s staring and looks away. “Hey,” he responds, feeling stupid. 

Lucas raises an eyebrow before crossing to the other side of the room, and no, Mike is not checking out his ass. He shakes his head, dumping the dirty clothes onto his bag and climbing up into the skinny bed. It’s piled with blankets and comforters, but the frame is still rickety and uncomfortable. Mike settles in as best he can.

“Do you want the lights on?” He hears Lucas ask.

Turning his head, Mike sees he has his hand over a lamp on the nightstand beside his bed. It’s tempting, but... “No,” Mike replies. “Unless you do.” 

Lucas flicks the lamp off in response. 

“Goodnight, Mike.” 

“Night, Lucas.” 

~<:>~ 

Mike’s eyes snap open in the middle of the night and he sits upright, breathing heavy. “Shit,” he mutters, clutching his head. 

The light switches on a few seconds later, scaring him half to death. “Mike?” Lucas’s voice is groggy, eyes barely open. Mike sighs in relief, shaky, heart still pounding. 

“I’m fine,” he whispers back. “Go back to sleep.” 

But Lucas is shifting the covers off himself before Mike can do anything. Feet hit the cold floor and pad over slowly. Mike gets up, too, meeting him halfway. “Seriously, I’m okay,” he stresses, pushing lightly on Lucas’s shoulder. “Get back in bed.” 

Lucas sways, rubbing his face. “You’re not... okay,” he manages in his partially-awake state. “You had a nightmare; it woke me up.” 

Guilt twinges in Mike’s stomach. “I’m sorry,” he tries, but Lucas holds up a hand.

“I don’t want to hear it. Just come to bed.” 

Mike starts. “What?” 

“You heard me,” Lucas says, clearer. “You won’t be able to sleep if you’re alone.” He turns to walk back towards his side of the room. “So come on.” 

Goddamnit, Mike will never get ahold of his blushing will he? “That bed is tiny,” he protests. “And it’s yours. I don’t want to keep you up.” 

“You’re keeping me up now,” Lucas replies, glancing at him over his shoulder. Mike swallows, stuck to his spot, while Lucas moves the covers back and gestures for him to get in. At another time, in another place, a gorgeous boy offering to share a bed with him might not seem like a bad idea. (Well, okay, yes it would. Mike’s not here to get AIDS.) 

But this is _Lucas_. And they have history, and Mike doesn’t want to make it awkward, and he’s thinking too much again, and Lucas will probably kill him if he doesn’t get in, anyway, so it doesn’t matter. 

Mike crosses the room, somewhat stiffly. Tries to climb in as gracefully as possible. Whether it worked or not, Lucas chuckles, sliding in beside him. Mike’s nose is at his back as he turns over to switch the lamp off. Darkness creeps in around them.

A beat. “You good?” Lucas whispers.

Mike nods. “Yeah.”

It takes a few minutes for Lucas to fall back under, but Mike’s not sure he can sleep. He still feels everything crushing him. He’s resisting the urge to put his arm over Lucas, but it seems that’s the only way he’ll be able to get any rest. Tentatively, Mike reaches forward and curls himself around the other boy, the simple contact calming his mind and making his eyelids heavy.

He’s asleep before he can count to eleven.

~<:>~

A soft light pouring in through the window is what wakes him. Apparently, the makeshift curtains are useless against the Boston sun. Which hardly makes sense, so it must be later in the morning. Come to think of it, Mike does feel pretty well-rested. The details of his dreams slowly disappear as he stirs. He stretches a little, opening his eyes further. 

They meet Lucas’s sleeping face.

Mike freezes, trying not to make a sound. Lucas’s breathing remains steady, features still. He must have rolled over at some point during the night, which could have gone really badly considering they have little to no space on either side. Mike raises his head just slightly to see how close Lucas is to the edge of the mattress; he’s about as close as Mike is to the wall. 

Well, there’s not much Mike can do about that. He doesn’t dare move, for fear of either waking Lucas or knocking him off the bed. Or both. He breathes once, through his nose, deciding that if he can’t do anything, he might as well go back to sleep. But instead of closing his eyes, he finds himself staring at the face in front of him. Studying Lucas’s features.

His lips are the first thing Mike notices, because they’re the first thing Mike always notices. Full, soft, and pale from inactivity. His cheekbones, too, highlighted by the faint light. Mike’s not exactly a poet, but even he can’t deny that there’s a downright angelic quality to the sleeping form. Serene, unaffected by the outside world. Brows arched, relaxed. Those eyes, deepest brown he’s ever seen. Dark lashes curled, open around them.

Oh, god damnit. 

Mike’s already staring, so he can’t exactly look away. Lucas stares back, picture settling into his pupils. Neither move until Lucas blinks and breaks the gaze, rubbing his lips together. Splotches of color fade back in, and Mike doesn’t know what to do. Because it would be way too easy to lean in... and he’s way too insecure. But there’s something in the way Lucas is looking at him, glancing down to Mike’s lips, too. There’s a tension, building with each second neither of them breathes. Of all the times to be impulsive... this is it. This is right.

 _Fuck it_. Mike kisses him.

The effect is immediate, switching his brain right back to when they were thirteen. In an instant, the room melts away. His only thought is kissing Lucas, tugging him closer by the waist. Lucas’s hand is already on the back of Mike’s neck, and Mike’s both relieved that he’s retaliating and turned on. 

Their kissing becomes more erratic, more real, and Lucas catches Mike’s lower lip between his teeth. That sends a swarm of heat down his pelvis, and he moans softly, growing harder by the second. He can feel Lucas against him, they’re so close. Slowly, Mike moves his hand down to squeeze Lucas’s ass, pushing their crotches together. Lucas breaks their kisses with his gasp, exposing his neck in the process. Mike takes the opportunity to move his mouth there, just below his jaw, pleased at the sounds Lucas makes when he sucks hard enough to bruise. 

This flaming in Mike’s gut has never been so demanding. He feels like he can’t function without Lucas’s hands all over him, on his back, in his hair. He hums against Lucas’s pulse, licking once to send the other boy’s hips rocking forward. “ _Mike_ ,” he says breathlessly. Mike responds by shifting his mouth down to the collarbone. 

They’re wearing too many clothes, Mike thinks. He’s about to burn through his t-shirt, especially if they stay under the covers. He pulls back, ignoring Lucas’s protests, and sits up just enough to pull the shirt over his head. Drops it off the edge of the bed behind Lucas, who is now staring very intently at Mike’s chest. He licks his lips again, meeting Mike’s gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Mike’s not entirely sure what they’re going to do, since he’s never actually... _done_ it, or done anything close, with a guy. But, judging by the way Lucas behaves, Mike’s pretty sure this isn’t new for him. Which is... interesting to think about, but in the end, doesn’t really matter. He trusts Lucas. He wants this— him. He’s not afraid anymore.

“Hell, yeah.” 

There’s a shift, a focus in Lucas’s eyes as he pulls Mike back down to his lips. Commanding, strong. Mike’s sort of on top of him, chest to chest, gripping his biceps. Lucas’s hands frame his face, tongue claiming his mouth. Soon enough, the itch in both their pants grows too strong, and in one swift move, Lucas flips them over, throwing the covers back in the process. Swings his left leg across, trapping Mike’s hips between his knees, and removes his shirt. 

Mike has about ten seconds to admire the physique before him, and he drinks it in. Not that he didn’t imagine what was under that t-shirt, but _damn_. A full-on six-pack, dark, toned, and glistening. Pecks like a demigod, sculpted thin the way Lucas has always been. The veins in his arms bulge just enough to be visible. 

At Lucas’s knowing smile, Mike rolls his eyes, sitting up to wrap his arms around those broad shoulders. Connects their lips, gentle, teasing as they roll back down onto the pillow. Chests bare, pulsing together. Lucas moves his hips, rubbing both of their erections again and Mike practically growls, lightheaded and grounded at the same time. 

When their lips have crashed together enough, Lucas shifts his mouth to Mike’s jaw, neck, collarbone, marking him to match his own bruises. A steady slew of curses fly from Mike’s panting tongue, mere echoes of his thoughts. Because _holy shit_ , Lucas is good at this. And most likely, wherever this leads. (Mike has a few ideas, but he has to be coherent enough to ask Lucas, who is currently trailing kisses down his chest, so all Mike can really focus on is not coming.)

When Lucas reaches the bottom of his path, Mike’s practically arching off the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. Slowly, he brings his head forward to see Lucas staring up at him. 

“What? Are-are you okay?” he asks, breathlessly. 

Lucas nods, gaze unwavering. “Yeah,” he answers in the same tone. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Mike assures him, but he doesn’t look convinced.

“I mean, with...” Lucas hooks his fingers under the waistband of Mike’s pants, sliding them down ever so slightly. “This.” 

Mike’s gut churns hotly at the sensation, at the thought. “Of course I’m okay with it, you idiot,” he replies, with as much affection in his voice as he can muster. “Just blow me.” 

Lucas smirks and the pants are off in an instant. As he tries to divest of the underwear, Mike has to help him, because there’s no way he’s about to let Lucas slide those down the length of his legs. That would take years.

There is a brief moment in which Mike realizes that he’s actually completely naked, lying fully exposed beneath a partially-naked Lucas Sinclair, who’s about two seconds away from sucking him off. 

When exactly did his life become this good? 

He holds his breath as Lucas places warm hands on either side of his dick, encircling the base with his right. All the blood is flowing there, making Lucas’s work that much easier. Slowly, he slides his hold up, squeezing just enough to send jolts through Mike’s torso. It takes everything inside of him not to vocalize, but even so a soft moan escapes him as Lucas begins pumping, slow. Very slow. Agonizingly slow, that Mike has to bite his lip, dig his fingernails into the mattress. 

Once Lucas starts speeding up, there’s a rhythm. With every squeeze Mike lets out a sigh, stuck somewhere between pleasure and want. “Faster,” he moans. “ _Lucas_. Faster.” 

Lucas obeys, going harder as well as faster, until he gets a good enough speed to tongue the tip of Mike’s dick, teasing. Mike nearly goes cross-eyed, almost unable to comprehend what’s happening. Lucas minimizes his ministrations as he licks, slipping his left hand around to Mike’s lower back. Without warning, Lucas kisses the tip, eliciting a small gasp and a slight curse from Mike, who is very sure that he’s going to set a new swearing record in the next five to ten minutes.

His theory his confirmed when Lucas slides his full lips around and down, ever so slowly, but Mike’s already reeling. “Fuck,” he hisses, arching into the touch. “Jesus fucking Christ, Lucas—” 

It’s impossible to keep quiet, even though Mike knows there are people living next-door that might hear them. Lucas’s lips on his dick are his main focus right now, and the rising, unbearable heat pulsating through his pelvis. Lucas pushes his mouth down to take the better half of Mike’s length, rendering him senseless again. 

Mike wants to wrap his legs around Lucas’s shoulders but he can hardly function enough to attempt that. He’s growing hotter, cursing louder, throwing his head back and trying not to let his body betray him. But he can’t last much longer, and Lucas is working magic with that fucking tongue, and he’s gasping, he’s so close—

With a final stroke, Mike feels it, spilling out of him, into Lucas’s mouth. Momentarily, he forgets where he is, starry-eyed and breathless. His heart’s beating at a hundred miles an hour as Lucas works him off, finally sliding to the tip and coming up for air. 

The two of them lock eyes, panting. Lucas wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins.

“Wow. Thought you’d be quicker than that.” 

Mike raises an eyebrow, playing into the bait. “Why, you have somewhere to be?” 

A wicked glint enters Lucas’s gaze. “No,” he responds, climbing back up Mike’s body. “I saved the whole weekend for you.” Leans down, ghosting just above Mike’s mouth. “And I intend on using it.” 

Mike shudders, the curling returning to his gut. They fall back into the rhythm, Lucas kissing bruises into Mike’s neck. “You-you do this with all the guys you invite over?” he manages, clutching Lucas’s back. 

The other boy’s lips pause, and he huffs a laugh over Mike’s skin. “No.” Another kiss. “Just you.” 

Panic flutters in Mike’s chest, and he brings Lucas’s head up to meet his. “You have done this before, right?” 

Lucas stares for second, then smiles. “You're always so tense.” He starts to kiss Mike again, but Mike stops him, giving him the look that shows he’s not having it. Lucas pulls back and sighs, propping his hands on either side of Mike’s head. “Okay, yes. I have. A few times. Nothing serious.” 

Mike bites his lip, heat rising to his face. “And, is this...” He falters, catching Lucas’s eye. “Serious?” 

Lucas shakes his head, laughing again, somewhat bitterly. “This is gay, Mike,” he answers. “It can’t be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS sorry


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Mike & Lucas-- college style
> 
> *just a smut chapter tbh* (not particularly necessary to plot other than exploring Lucas and Mike's relationship)

They start hooking up every other weekend. Sometimes more often; always Lucas’s room. For some reason, it works. If Mike’s being honest, he doesn’t love the whole ‘friends with benefits’ concept, but it seems to be fine in practice. The two of them are still as close as ever (well, closer). They still call and email and talk about the stupidest things, like best friends do. Nothing’s weird. They just sometimes pause mid-conversation to make out, or discuss quantum theory while lying half-naked on top of each other.

And okay, it’s not like they’re dating. Because first of all, Mike would know. It’s not that he doesn’t _know_. But, for obvious reasons, they can't really be ‘dating’. So he guesses it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s fine to have Lucas the way he does. 

The sex doesn’t come until a few months in, five days before the end of the midterm. 

Mike has a paper due. Despite his every attempt to avoid writing papers in college by choosing a physics major, project reports are still a thing. He’s been ‘almost finished’ for the past week and a half, and now he needs to actually finish. Though it's nearly impossible to concentrate with Lucas in the room. 

He’s distracting Mike— on purpose. Why Mike thought coming here to work would be a good idea in the first place has left him. He sighs into his hand, blank page staring up at him. In the corner of his vision, Lucas sits, completely nude, eating a bag of chips noisily. (He’s been stripping ever since Mike started this unfeasible task, slowly but surely.) 

As Lucas pours crumbs into his mouth, Mike groans, flopping face first into his arms and letting his pencil fall to the floor. 

“Just give it up already,” Lucas chides.

Mike glares at him over his elbow. “You’re a dick.” 

Lucas just smiles, tipping the bag back again as Mike watches, unsure whether he wants to punch Lucas or kiss him. Annoyance and arousal seem to clash way too often with them.

“This isn’t a free show, you know,” Lucas comments.

“Seems to be,” Mike bites back.

Lucas eyes him, licking his lips. “Would you like that?”

“Oh my god,” Mike caves, standing. “Fine. _Fine_. We can fuck, as long as, at some point, preferably before Monday, I can get back to writing this fucking paper. Okay?” 

The shock on Lucas’s face barely registers until Mike realizes what he just said, at which point his entire body turns red. 

_Fuck._

Mike expects Lucas to turn it into a joke like he normally does, but he actually looks serious as he asks, “We can... fuck? Like...” 

“I mean— uh...” Mike stammers, gaze shifting to the window. 

“I thought it was too risky. You said—”

“I remember what I said,” Mike cuts in. He brings a hand to his mouth, trying to fight the blush. “But I kind of thought that sooner or later, we’d...” He swallows. “We would anyway.” 

Lucas stands, clearly forgetting he’s naked. “Mike,” he starts, all soft and concerned. “I would never do anything you weren’t comfortable with. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Mike replies, quiet. 

Lucas lets out a frustrated huff. “Mike. Look at me.” 

Mike does, startled to see Lucas is only a few inches away from him. The other boy lifts his eyebrows, light. “Did you mean it?” 

Did he? It was just a slip of the tongue, but... 

But he thinks of how close they’ve come, and how good this has been. He thinks of how amazing it feels, being with Lucas. He thinks of the risks, too. How prominent and dangerous this epidemic has become. As far as he knows, Lucas hasn’t been fooling around with anyone else, and Mike definitely hasn’t. And they were both clean when this started... 

This is so complicated. The only reason Mike hasn’t exploded from all the anxiety yet is because he’s barred himself from dwelling on it. Thoughts are far too often his enemy. 

Lucas is still waiting for an answer, patient as ever. Mike seriously wonders what this gorgeous boy sees in him. Maybe the tension has always been there, growing, unavoidable. Whatever the reason, Mike’s glad they got to this point. Which helps him fight the nervousness in his gut as he makes his decision. 

Mike nods. “Yeah. I meant it.” 

A smile breaks onto Lucas’s face and he kisses Mike, hands floating up to cup his jaw while Mike’s are pressed against Lucas’s chest. Mike registers the fact that this must look completely ridiculous, seeing as he’s fully clothed and Lucas is fully not. But he’s too absorbed in the other boy’s mouth to care, worries dissolving at every point of contact. 

Before the kissing can intensify, however, Lucas breaks away. Mike lets out a noise of protest, which Lucas ignores, sitting on the edge of the desk chair, calm and collected. He gestures vaguely in Mike’s direction. “Take off your clothes.” 

Mike raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“You heard me,” Lucas responds, gaze daring Mike to look away. 

Which he does not, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, indignant. “I thought you were being a gentleman,” he retorts, only slightly teasing.

“I’m always a gentleman.”

“Then shouldn’t you be taking my clothes off for me?” Mike prompts.

Lucas just grins. “I already took mine off. It’s your turn.” 

_His turn?_ Mike crosses his arms, beet-red. “Absolutely not.” 

“Come on, Mike,” Lucas laughs. “I’ve seen you naked like a billion times. Why does it always have to be embarrassing?” 

“Not everyone has the same level of confidence, asshole.”

“ _Mike_ ,” Lucas groans, rolling his head back.

“ _Lucas_ ,” Mike mimics, standing his ground. But as the darker boy brings his head back around to stare him down, Mike knows there’s no way out of this. Despite the butterflies consuming his stomach, he’s going to strip.

“Fine,” he seethes, unbuttoning his sweater aggressively and shouldering it off. Pulls his shirt over his head, drops it on the pile. Unzips his pants, steps out of the leg holes, kicks them off to the side. Steps on his sock-heels and brushes those away, too. He’s a little gentler with the underwear, making sure to get a decent angle for Lucas’s line of sight. 

And then he’s naked, standing in front his clothes strewn over the floor. 

Lucas leans forward, forearms on his knees. “That wasn’t much of a show,” he says, but he still looks pleased.

“I’m not much of a performer,” Mike replies, crossing his arms again in an attempt to appear less exposed. (It doesn’t work.)

Lucas nods, rubbing his jaw. His eyes roam Mike’s body before he stands, hands finding their way to Mike’s biceps, turning him gently around. Slowly, he slides his hold down Mike’s arms, bending to bury his lips in the crook of Mike’s neck, fingertips dancing against his skin. Mike sighs, leaning into the touch, and brings his right arm up to cradle Lucas’s head. 

Those fingers find his pelvis easily, moving to encompass Mike’s dick. He inhales sharply, turning to place a kiss on Lucas’s temple. The other boy’s grip tightens. He moves his hand up, slow as ever, but rougher than usual. He sucks a mark into Mike’s shoulder, squeezes hard. Mike doesn’t know what to feel, gloriously overwhelmed. 

Lucas keeps his mouth busy on Mike’s upper body, hands never pausing. As he starts to move faster, his lips break contact so he can concentrate. Mike can’t control his reactions any longer, allowing his hips to rock back against Lucas’s erection. Both of them moan, and Lucas’s hold intensifies, stroking fast enough that Mike forgets how to breathe. He digs his fingernails into Lucas’s neck, gasp stuttering out. 

It doesn’t take long for Lucas to undo him. Mike lets his head fall back as Lucas works, slipping his left arm across Mike’s chest to hold him there. With that leverage, Mike thrusts into Lucas’s hand until the release rushes over him, spilling down onto the floor. 

Dizzy, he relaxes against Lucas, warmth still racing through him. Lucas presses a gentle kiss into his shoulder; Mike brushes over the spot he scratched on the nape of Lucas’s neck, soothing. 

They are by no means finished. The respite lasts just long enough for Mike to catch his breath. Then, Lucas turns to face him, and they’re kissing, Lucas’s hands in his hair, Mike’s on his shoulders, pulling him closer. All familiar and incredible and hot.

Mike is the first to step back towards the bed. Lucas quickly follows, stumbling a bit, and they hit the edge, still caught up in each other. Mike’s hands shoot down to grip the mattress, bracing himself. Fingers weaving through Mike’s hair, Lucas shifts his kisses below the jaw. Traces a pattern over Mike’s neck, marking the opposite side. Mike falls completely under, shuddering when their crotches make contact. 

Lucas moves his hands to Mike’s waist and lifts him, suddenly, onto the bed. Breaking through his trance, Mike helps him. As Lucas keeps coming forward, Mike lays back, and soon Lucas is on top of him (familiar, incredible, hot). 

They kiss until Mike feels his lips go numb, or close to it. The sheer force between the two of them is almost unbelievable, in the sense that neither boy cares about restraining themselves when they’re like this. It’s not easy to hide the bruises they get, but even after the heat of the moment, it is so worth it. 

Finally, they break apart, both heaving, and make eye contact. “Hey,” Lucas exhales, bringing his hand to Mike’s cheek. “You still okay?” 

Mike nods, “Yeah.” 

Lucas nods back, kissing him once, twice, before climbing down to rummage through his dresser. Mike sits up on his elbows, watching as Lucas produces a box of condoms and a bottle of lube from his sock drawer. As he turns around, Mike cocks an eyebrow.

“I hope those don’t smell like your feet.” 

“Shut up.” Lucas takes one of the condoms out, placing the box on the desk. His gaze flicks up to Mike’s, intense enough to make him harden. “Did you want to top?” 

Uh. Mouth open, Mike stutters. “I mean— I don’t— know?”

Lucas stares at the condom in his hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve only ever topped, but...” He glances back to Mike, looking guilty. “I probably should have thought of this beforehand.” 

Mike shrugs, unsure what to say. “I guess... do what you’re comfortable with?” 

Lucas lets out a short laugh. “I want to do what _you’re_ comfortable with.” 

Mike huffs, rolling his eyes. “I can take it up the ass, Lucas.” 

A comically tense silence follows, and instead of responding, Lucas rubs his lips together, hiding a smile. Dread fills Mike’s stomach as his words settle in the air.

_Oh, god, he has no idea what he’s doing._

Fortunately, Lucas has no issue taking the lead. Without hesitation he rips open the condom, pulling it out neatly and discarding the wrapper next to the box. He takes the lube in his other hand and, once he’s back on the bed, he hands the condom to Mike, who is trying not to panic. 

“Okay,” Lucas starts, squeezing some of the lube onto his fingers. “It’ll be better if I just, um—” he sets the bottle down “— prep you.” 

Mike nods, biting his cheek. 

“So, um...” Lucas spreads Mike’s knees with his left hand. “Try to relax.” 

Mike’s not sure that word is even in his vocabulary at the moment. 

But, he tries, staying upright on his elbows so he can hold Lucas’s gaze. The other boy keeps his hand on Mike’s knee, gripping it gently. “You ready?” 

Taking one last, deep breath, Mike nods. 

“Okay,” Lucas says, focusing in. “It’ll be kind of cold at first,” he warns. 

As soon as he feels it, Mike inhales sharply. It’s cold, but not so unbearable. Lucas starts to push up, and that, at first is. “Ah,” Mike hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He feels pressure on his knee. “Relax,” Lucas murmurs. 

His finger slides in, shooting a strange but gratifying sensation into Mike’s pelvis. It actually does help him relax a bit, tension leaving his shoulders. Lucas’s finger moves, exploring, stretching, and Mike attempts to move with it. He is growing harder by the second, which is hopefully a good sign. He’s certainly not in much pain, even as Lucas inserts a second finger. If anything, it feels better with two.

Mike rocks into the touch, letting out a small moan. Before long, Lucas adds a third finger, sending Mike to the edge. It feels good— strange, warm, and perfect. Although three becomes a bit unpleasant when Lucas sinks them further in. At first, anyway. The pain always turns to pleasure after a few seconds. 

“Shit,” he hears Lucas utter. The hand leaves his knee, reaching for the condom, no doubt. Mike brings his head up, covering Lucas’s hand with his. 

“Let me.”

Lucas looks at their hands, then back at Mike’s face. Nods, the hint of a smile gracing his features. Mike takes the condom in both hands, adjusting to the new angle at which Lucas’s fingers are caressing him. Gaze locked, Mike slides the latex cover all the way down to the base of Lucas’s dick in one slow, steady sweep. He smirks when Lucas tenses, sensitive as ever to Mike’s touch.

Still working Mike up with his fingers, Lucas crawls forward, pushing Mike’s chest back. He reclines gladly, taking Lucas down with him. There’s only so far the other boy can go, but he manages to graze a few kisses over Mike’s chest, pressing even harder against Mike’s ass. 

Mike can’t help but moan, craning forward, wanting more. Finally, when he’s near gone, Lucas draws his fingers out, one at a time. Their absence feels like somewhat of a relief, but Mike craves the sensation again. Lucas pauses, placing both hands on Mike’s waist, readying himself.

Mike brings his head up for a quick kiss, gripping Lucas’s neck like some kind of lifeline. When they pull away, Lucas asks. “Are you ready?” Mike’s heart jumps and he flushes, but he is ready. He has been.

Once he has the nod of consent, Lucas begins, pushing the tip of his dick into Mike’s entrance. It’s altogether larger in diameter than his fingers, or at least feels that way. Mike can only handle so much at once, and Lucas goes slow at first, testing his capacity. As soon as Mike relaxes, giving into the heat, Lucas slides the rest of the way in—

And Mike’s brain short-circuits. 

He can’t curse— he can barely speak— the feeling is so intense. Painful, strange, pleasurable, all at once. Mike clutches at Lucas's back, wraps his legs around Lucas’s waist, clinging to him, desperate to be closer, to breathe him in, to take all he can. Lucas stutters, panting against Mike’s neck, warmth consuming them both.

As he starts to roll his hips, the wind returns to Mike’s lungs, clearing his head.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Shit— shit. _Fuck_ , Lucas—”

“ _Mike_ ,” Lucas echoes.

It doesn’t take long for Mike to harden completely, blood rushing from the back of his pelvis to the front, filling him up. He’s leaving red lines on Lucas’s shoulder blades, swearing up a storm. Lucas lets some profanity slip as well, getting closer, rougher, faster. 

The second before he comes, Lucas bites down on Mike’s skin.

“Fuck!” 

They hit release at almost exactly the same time, perhaps a second apart. It shakes both their bodies, the entire bed, maybe even the floor. They shudder through, oblivious to their volume. Once the overwhelming heat subsides, Lucas slides out of Mike, softening. It hurts a bit, both to lose the pressure and to remember it was there. Mike can’t explain it. He’s completely, utterly stunned. He’s forgotten what cool air feels like. He’s breathing through the cloud of light around his head, euphoric.

When his high simmers slightly, he opens his eyes to find Lucas removing the condom, tying it off, and dropping it into the garbage beside them. He turns back toward Mike, flushing enough for it to be visible, and he looks absolutely beautiful. Mike stares, inviting him to crawl back up, propping himself above Mike as usual. His fingertips brush the dark spot on Mike’s neck.

“Sorry about that,” Lucas says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be,” Mike admits. “I liked it.” 

“Did you?” Lucas teases.

“Mmm.” Mike feels the blush creep back into his cheeks. “I liked everything about that.” 

Lucas smiles, eyes smoldering. “Good.” He pushes the hair back from Mike’s forehead. “Because I fully intend on doing it again.” 

Mike brings his fingertips to Lucas’s jaw, tracing it absently. “You should have fucking warned me.” 

“Warned you?” Lucas inquires.

“How hot that was gonna be,” Mike confesses. 

Lucas smiles. “You should have known.” 

He really should have.

They recommence kissing, falling into the all-too familiar roughness. “How long until you’re ready to go again?” Lucas asks between breaths.

“About ten seconds,” Mike responds, tilting his lips up in expectance. The darker boy grins and kisses him. When he pulls back to stare, he shakes his head.

“Mike Wheeler,” he ponders. “You are incredible.” 

Despite himself, Mike smirks, kissing Lucas again. “Lucas Sinclair...” he starts, trailing his fingers down to Lucas’s ass. Squeezes once, pulling it up with both hands. “Fuck me,” he demands.

Lucas moans, already there. “Gladly.” 

~<:>~

Mike does finish his project report before Monday. 

He receives a solid ninety-six percent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3 I really love analyzing Mike & Lucas's dynamic so that's what this was. Btw the reason there's so much sex in this fic is because I wanted to write it as a coming-of-age slash realistic fic for Mike and his bisexuality. So yeah. Comments & kudos are appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming-- Mike & Max, Mike & El, Mike & Will
> 
> *bonus Micas scene at the start for transition*

“Shit,” Lucas breathes, tugging at Mike’s hair. “Okay, I can’t— oh, _god_ , that’s so— _ah_ — come back up here.” 

Mike smiles against Lucas’s ribcage, but he happily obliges. Their mouths meet in one breath, pulling from the same energy. Mike almost forgot how sweet those lips tasted while he was down below, but he's glad to taste them now. 

When he starts to dip lower, Lucas cuts him off. “That is enough from you,” he says firmly, lifting Mike’s lips from his jaw. “It looks like someone strangled me.” 

Mike grins, teasing. “I had to pay you back.” 

Lucas snorts. “Right.”

Mike presses his palms to Lucas’s chest, resting his chin there. Lucas can hardly blame him for wanting to top from time to time. And there’s no way he’s letting the other boy go scotch-free when his skin is _right there._

“Maybe you just need to stop being so attractive,” Mike suggests.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “That’s impossible. As the physics genius, you should know this.” 

Mike pouts, earning a laugh.

“You know, I never imagined we’d end up like this,” Lucas says, somewhat pensive.

“Like what?” Mike prompts.

Lucas gives him a look. “You know what.” 

“Really? You never imagined us fucking before we got to college?” Mike asks, enjoying the blush fading onto Lucas’s cheeks.

“Of course not. Shut up,” he defends weakly.

“Make me,” Mike challenges.

The darker boy’s eyes narrow. Within seconds, he’s grabbed Mike’s shoulders and flipped them over, pinning him against the pillow, legs tangled in the sheets. Mike exhales a laugh, unwilling to let his surprise get the best of him. Lucas doesn’t appear to find it funny, but Mike knows he’s trying very hard to be serious. 

“When did you start using my own words against me?”

“When we were seven.”

“You’re impossible.” 

“I know.”

Lucas is smiling now, despite himself. He leans down and kisses Mike, relaxing against him. Mike opens his mouth, pulling Lucas closer with one hand on his neck, one on his back. They hum into each other, naked and ravished.

That’s exactly how they are when someone knocks on the door.

They stop kissing, heads snapping to the side, both completely still.

“Lucas?” 

“ _Shit_!” is his response. 

They attempt to get up at the same time, Lucas tips to the side, and as Mike tries to grab him out of instinct, he loses his balance, yelping as they both roll off the bed onto the floor, landing in a heap. 

Gloria enters, a shopping bag in hand. She stops when she sees them, arching one eyebrow. “Well.” 

Mike has never been more mortified in his entire life.

Lucas doesn’t appear quite as scared, actually breathing a sigh of relief. “Oh, hey,” he says from the floor.

Gloria waves, backing up. “I think I should come back when you two are decent.” She spots the desk, and what’s littered across it. “I’ll just leave this here then,” she adds, setting the bag down and walking out without another glance.

Once the door closes behind her, Mike sinks into Lucas’s chest, almost shuddering. “Fucking hell.”

“That could have gone a lot worse,” Lucas comments.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Mike manages. “I thought the door locked?”

“It does,” Lucas says, grim. “I just... forgot to lock it this time.” 

Mike raises his head, eyes still wide from the shock, and sees his expression reflected on Lucas’s face. The longer they stare, the funnier the situation becomes. Lucas starts to smile, making Mike smile, and soon they’re shaking with laughter.

~<:>~

Over the summer, they go back home.

They all do—all six party members. Despite the overwhelming work opportunities in the city, it’s nice to just help out at the school, the science center, the animal clinic, the arcade. It’s minimum wage regardless, and at least this way they get to see their families, reconnect for a whole three months.

Well. Dustin has to go back mid-August, and El has an internship starting a few weeks before that. Apart from those and a few other minor setbacks involving Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship drama, they have an amazing time. Mostly they play video games, unashamedly, and hang out at Max’s house since she’s the only one there for now, and she has a hot tub. They avoid parents at all costs (but they’re not horrible children for wanting some space, are they?). It’s so utterly, perfectly them, like it used to be. Like nothing’s changed.

And yet, _everything_ has changed.

Will is significantly taller, for one. He looks so much like Jonathan, but even more like Joyce with those huge brown eyes. Smiles bright and fresh, hair swept back. He still seems tiny enough for Max to call him shrimp, but she’s barely eye-level with him. 

Max had her growth spirt in tenth grade and remains a steady five-eight. She wears her hair up far more often now, very busy and studious-looking, which is what she’s going for. She even wears the fake glasses Lucas bought her from time to time.

Dustin actually _needs_ glasses now, a fact about which he receives endless teasing. He shrugs it off, suggesting he’s just spent too much time using microscopes when they all know it’s from staring too closely at computer screens. 

But, despite the stereotype, Dustin doesn’t look bad. He’s actually grown into himself, although that doesn’t stop him from acting like a twelve-year-old, gurgling through his teeth to make El uncomfortable. (She’s not twelve anymore. She just force-chokes him.)

Not much can make El uncomfortable now; she’s impenetrable. Of course, when she’s with them, there are frequent glimpses of that blinding innocence and badass strength they know so well. (But the cold, uptight bitchiness isn’t entirely an act.)

Max is the only one who seems to break through that layer, making El smile or relax whenever necessary. The two of them are attached at the hip, sharing secret looks, giggling, almost _flirting_ , Mike would have to say. He has half a mind to ask her about it, but he’s also trying to avoid one-on-one conversations with Max due to the absolute mess of a situation he’s in.

Mike will be the first to admit that he’s not a subtle person. He can’t help himself; he has very open expressions, even if he can channel Ted Wheeler’s poker face when he wants to. It wouldn’t really be an issue if Lucas weren’t around him all the time.

Because, well. They haven’t told anyone yet. And Mike’s not actually sure if they will? 

It’s not like he thinks his friends won’t accept it, because they definitely will. Or would. If they said anything. He guesses they’ve just gotten so used to hiding it from everyone (except Gloria) that the routine is familiar.

Though Mike feels guilty, sneaking off to make out, and fuck when they get the chance. It’s like they have something to be ashamed of. Mike hates that feeling. It’s bubbled up inside his chest his entire life, especially growing up in small-town Indiana. With Lucas, it was different. They never really talked about it. Mike didn’t register the hate of the world outside that dorm room. 

Now, around their friends, their families, Mike feels it again. An ugly sense of fear, a wall going up between him and everyone around him. It’s more the attitude of Hawkins itself than the people he loves in it. He’s reminded that those people aren’t like most. That there will always be disgust associated with what he and Lucas do, say, feel. No matter where they go.

So, Mike chooses to be here, with his friends, who do accept him and love him despite his anxiety and frog-face and hot-headed stubbornness. He should be able to trust them. They deserve that.

~<:>~

“Hey, asshole.” 

It’s two in the morning. The others are asleep inside the house. Mike sits on the back porch, looking out into the yard, only a dim light above his head. He hears the door creak open before he hears her greeting, turns to see Max standing there in her tank top and shorts, looking about as sleep-deprived as he feels. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. 

Max runs one hand through her hair, one over her face. “What are you doing out here?”

Mike shrugs in response. “Couldn’t sleep. Too hot in there.”

It’s the truth, even if it doesn’t sound like it. Mike knows she’ll press, but he’s not in the mood to care. He’s not really sure what kind of mood he’s in that drove him to sit outside with the mosquitos, but it still feels nicer than inside. More freeing or something. 

Max sits down beside him, carefully, the stair shifting under her weight. She sighs, resting her chin on her palms, and stares out at the trees with him. The night air fills them with memory, both good and bad. Mostly good. Silver-blue stars trim the horizon, the brightest they’ve ever been, Mike thinks. He almost wishes the others could see it. 

“So,” Max starts, and Mike realizes it’s the first time they’ve been alone together so far this summer. That’s surprising, until he remembers why. His throat tightens ever so slightly.

“So?” he repeats.

“So...” Max drawls, sounding tired. Or drunk. “How have you been?”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “How have I been?” 

“Are you gonna keep repeating everything I say?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Ugh.” Max sniffs, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Please don’t. That might actually wake me up.” 

“Would you rather sleep-talk with me?” Mike asks, only partially kidding.

“Yes,” Max replies, completely serious. Mike wants to laugh, but he figures that’ll really get to her. “Or no,” she corrects in the same tone. “You know.” 

“Do I?” Mike wonders, casting her a wary look. 

“Yes,” Max says, rather forcefully. She’s struggling to keep her eyes open. “How are you? How is college?”

Beyond amused, Mike shakes his head. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Max echoes, nodding, eyes slipping closed. “You and Lucas meet up often in Mass?” she asks innocently.

A small array of butterflies twist Mike’s stomach at that, face heating up. He was expecting this, _he was expecting it._ Maybe not, you know, _right then_ , but. It’s fine. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to tell her. 

“Yeah,” he answers, clearing his throat. “Pretty often.”

“That’s nice,” Max murmurs into her hand. 

Mike glances over at her; she seems to really be sliding under. But just as he starts to think he can make a subtle escape, she speaks again. “You guys having sex?”

He freezes, then glares. _Wow._ Just like her to be _that_ blunt about it. “ _No_ ,” he declares angrily, not sure why he’s bothering to lie.

Max opens one eye and grins at him. “You so totally are.” 

Mike looks away, biting his cheek. She laughs, sitting up straight. Clearly more awake now, to Mike’s great chagrin. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the others if you don’t want me to.” 

Like a reflex, Mike’s mind jumps to Will. “Don’t,” he warns her, far too quickly. “We’ll tell them ourselves.” 

The sentence feels strange the second it leaves his mouth. Max cocks an eyebrow. “Really? Because you do know that no one else is going to ask.” 

“And?”

“And you’re terrible at saying things unprompted.” 

Mike frowns, feeling miffed. “I’m an expert at saying things unprompted.” 

Max rolls her eyes. “I meant _important_ things, Wheeler,” she chides, leaning forward again. 

Despite himself, Mike flinches, a twinge in his gut. _Important things._ He never assumed that months of secret hook-ups constituted anything _important._ At least not according to Lucas; Mike hasn’t forgotten his comment from when they first...

He clenches his jaw. Max notices before he can say anything, brows drawn together. “Oh. Is it not—”

“Serious, no,” Mike says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Feels a bit guilty about it, since the relationship is, in fact, incredibly satisfying. Sexually. And he has no right to expect more of Lucas; after all, they hadn’t promised each other anything. 

But.

Max is quiet for a minute. She almost looks pensive, Mike thinks, which is a rare quality to see in her. Eventually, the moment passes, and she lays a hand on Mike’s knee, as if in solidarity. He can’t help but look at her, and there’s an openness, a kindness to her light eyes that he’s never seen before. “If he hurts you, I’ll rip his dick off,” she proclaims.

Mike wants to laugh, but there’s not a hint of humor in her tone. It almost moves him, and he places his hand over hers, cracking a smile. “Would you?”

She rolls her eyes again, melting back into her usual self. “I did date him for three years. Trust me, I would.” 

“I think I kind of prefer him with it, though,” Mike notes, drawing a scandalized gasp from Max. 

“Did Mike Fucking Wheeler just make a joke about Lucas Sinclair’s penis?” she asks in somewhat mock disbelief. 

“It wasn’t a joke,” Mike refutes. “I meant it.” Earning an even louder gasp and a shove to his shoulder. He laughs, blushing— because his face just refuses to not. 

Max shakes her head at him. “Cheeky bastard.” 

They sit comfortably in silence for a few minutes. Kind of feels like they’re in high school again, sniping about who’s to be valedictorian. Mike never expected a year to feel like a lifetime. The nostalgia is starting to get to him when he remembers his question for her. And a wicked thought stirs him into action. “So,” he starts, smirking. 

“So?” Max mimics, obviously suspicious of his tone. 

“So...” Mike drones. “How’s it going with El in New York?”

Max narrows her eyes. “Fine,” she says slowly.

“Fine,” Mike repeats, waggling his eyebrows at her. “You guys having sex?”

Of course, he’s expecting her to deny it, but she doesn’t get angry or indignant. Instead, Max smiles, sudden and bright. “Um, no,” she answers, ducking her head. 

Mike pauses, scrutinizing her face. Because he could have sworn... But no. It couldn’t be— no, that’s impossible. And yet here it is before his very eyes. “Maxine Mayfield, are you _blushing_?” 

“No!” she protests, attempting a glare. “Don’t you dare use my full name like that, asshole.” 

“I will do what I please,” Mike bites back, a strange fluttering in his stomach. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Still frowning, Max purses her lips and doesn’t say anything. As she turns away from him, Mike can see the corners of her mouth twitch up into a small smile. And the red creeps back into her cheeks. 

“You _really_ like her,” he corrects himself. 

“Oh, shut up.” 

She can’t stop herself from smiling. Mike knows the feeling— knows exactly how easy it is to fall for El. How incredible and dizzying and warm it can be. He doesn’t envy Max, but he’s wordlessly happy for her. It’s kind of funny that they ended up here, entangled in this messy, intricate love square.

“You can stop looking at me like that,” Max says, drawing Mike from his thoughts. “I know I’m an idiot.” 

“I never said that,” Mike defends, meeting her gaze. Only some of the blush has faded from her face, blue eyes still sparkling. 

“Well, I know,” Max assures him. “Just, for the record.” 

“So, are the two of you...” Mike gestures vaguely. 

Max sighs dramatically. “No. No, she doesn’t know.” 

There’s a resigned note in her voice that makes him frown. It certainly looked like El was flirting with her, too. And he would know; El does not flirt subtly. As he opens his mouth to say so, there’s a loud rustle in the trees beyond. 

Both of them jump, heads snapping to the shadowy woods. Mike’s heart races for a tense few seconds. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_ —

It’s probably nothing. It’s definitely nothing. Besides, they’re up by the house, they’re in the light, everyone else is safe inside, Mike lists off, trying to calm himself. Could have been a rabbit or a mouse or some leaves falling. And it’s summer, he thinks, which is something of a memorial shield. (And it’s been six years. _Six years._ ) 

When they don’t hear anything but crickets chirping, they relax. Mike looks down and realizes that they’re gripping hands. Funny; they must have grabbed each other out of instinct. He squeezes gently. “You okay?”

Max nods, pale profile still staring into the yard. She lets go, shuddering. “Does it ever go away?” 

The question lingers. “Hasn’t so far,” Mike says, glancing back just once for reassurance.

Max is quiet beside him, and when Mike turns, she’s glaring at the trees. “Fuck that,” she growls. Suddenly, she stands, squaring off, jaw set. “That’s right,” she continues, voice raised. She throws her middle finger up and shouts into the night: “I said fuck that!” Looks down at Mike, who’s slightly terrified. “Come on, Wheeler, get up and do this with me.” 

“Um, I’m not sure—”

She hoists him up by his elbow, despite his protests. “Look at me,” she says, serious. “We’re not afraid anymore.” Mike swallows, nodding. “Starting now, we will never be afraid again.” Her eyes send a pang through his chest. Like an empowering shockwave. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like she’s speaking exclusively about their fear of the dark. 

“So, fuck you!” Max yells at the trees. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you,” Mike mutters. He thinks of Bob, and of Barb, and of El. He thinks of all of them, pulse thumping loud with anger. Nancy, Joyce, Jonathan, Hopper, Steve, Dustin, Max, Lucas—

Will.

“Fuck you,” he repeats. “Fuck you. Fuck you!” 

“Fuck you!” Max screams next to him. 

Their fuck-yous echo around them, filling them with a euphoric sense of liberation. They shout until the air leaves their lungs, probably startling some neighbors in the process, but it’s worth it. Exhilarated, Mike looks to Max, eyebrows raised. “Feel better?”

She nods, the intensity in her expression sparking to victory. “Yeah,” she says, looking at him, too. “Irrevocably.” 

~<:>~

As predicted, no one else does ask about Mike and Lucas. 

The rest of the group seems contentedly oblivious, and it’s really not hard to sneak off without raising suspicion. Only Max sends them knowing looks, winks, mouths dirty lines and the like. It’s not as annoying as Mike pretends it is. In truth, he really wants to tell the others. He wants to know he can trust them. 

Sometime in the middle of July, Dustin approaches him out of nowhere. He rests his forearms on the railing to imitate Mike, and he’s weirdly serious. Mike raises an eyebrow, but Dustin doesn’t look at him, just stares out at the street. 

“So. You and Lucas are sleeping together.” 

Mike’s stomach plummets instinctively, but he’s more surprised than anything. It takes him a while to respond, and when he does, his voice sounds strangely casual. “Yeah.” 

Dustin nods, and Mike watches his expression. He almost looks proud, and when he catches Mike staring, he smiles, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, it’s about damn time.” 

Reigning in his shock, Mike offers a hesitant smile back. Dustin chuckles at him, releasing his hold to fold his hands back together. His friend waits maybe ten seconds before speaking again. “Just don’t do anything on my mom’s couch, alright?” 

“Oh my god,” Mike groans, face-planting into his arms. 

“I’m just saying, the way you two look at each other sometimes, I don’t know if you can make it to a bed.” 

Mike punches his shoulder, affection radiating off them both.

Of course, Mike then assumes that Lucas was the one to tell Dustin, but when he recounts the interaction to Lucas, he gets a shrug. “He came to me a couple days ago with a theory. I confirmed it.” 

Mike’s too afraid to ask what that theory sounded like. “How did he know though?” 

“It’s Dustin, man,” Lucas says pointedly. “He just figures things out.” 

Mike supposes that’s true. He bites his lip. “Do you think... we should tell the others?” 

Lucas shrugs again. “I mean, Max and Dustin already know, so you can tell Will and El if you want.” 

Mike frowns. “Why do I have to tell them?”

“You don’t _have_ to,” Lucas responds, lazing back in his chair. 

“So you don’t want to?”

“What? That’s just not what I said.”

“Okay.” 

They’re holding eye contact now, Mike standing awkwardly across the room. Lucas sighs, heaving himself up and walking over. 

“I’m just saying,” he starts, rubbing Mike’s shoulders to ease him. “You’re closer to the two of them. It’s your decision if they know or not.” 

“So you’re putting it all on me? You know I can’t make decisions,” Mike protests. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby.” 

Mike pulls a face. “Ew. What the fuck was that?”

“That was me calling you a baby. Because you are actually an overgrown child.”

“Fuck you; I’m two years away from a chemistry degree.” 

“Oh, excuse me, _Dr._ Wheeler.” 

Mike flushes a bit at the insinuation in Lucas’s tone. “But, seriously,” he reiterates, slightly desperate. “I don’t know if I want to tell them.” 

“You mean you don’t want to tell Will,” Lucas mutters.

Mike’s breath catches in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Lucas counters, stalking away. The door shuts behind him, and Mike flinches. Then sighs guiltily.

Because, yeah. He does know.

~<:>~

They’re almost two months into the summer before Mike says anything. 

First: El.

She’s sitting on Mike’s basement couch as he lumbers, half-drunk, half-asleep down the stairs. Not an entirely unusual occurrence, and she lifts maybe a pinkie to right him when he trips at the bottom. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, stepping over some scattered Legos and throwing himself down beside her. His head is pounding rather loudly, but another drink from the bottle in his hand clears it up. 

The others are passed out upstairs. They finished their game about an hour ago, and Mike doesn’t really remember anything other than Dustin getting overly excited about a noise outside that turned out to be nothing and then collapsing onto Will, who was the most sober one next to El. The two of them hardly ever drink— well, the six of them hardly ever drink, but Lucas wanted to celebrate some scientist’s death day— Michael Faraday maybe?— and Max leapt on board since she had some booze stored away.

And here they are. El turns to Mike, that familiar softness in her eyes. “You’re going to be pissed tomorrow morning.”

“It is tomorrow morning,” Mike replies smoothly, taking another sip.

“Idiot.” 

Mike laughs, but doesn’t argue. He tilts the bottle in her direction. “Drink with me.”

El shakes her head, taking it from him and setting it down on the table. “Better if we don’t,” she murmurs. 

For some reason, her tone doesn’t sound right. Mike frowns, examining her face. From his angle, the light traces her cheeks, highlighting the downturn of her mouth.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, jostling her a bit. She gives a small smile in response, takes one of the blankets and starts weaving her fingers through the material.

For the past couple of days, she’s been like this. Mike hasn’t pressed. Not yet, anyway, and he figures Max will beat him to the punch. It’s hardly him that can make her feel better anymore.

After a few minutes, maybe more, El speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “Sure...?”

She hesitates briefly, then surges onward. “Do you think... Max and Lucas are dating again?” 

Mike barks out a laugh, unable to stop himself. That was definitely not what he expected her to say. El frowns, confused, but he just shakes his head. “No.” 

“Why not?” she asks, gaze narrow.

“I have my reasons,” he answers mysteriously, making her roll her eyes. He regards her, curious and amused. “Why do you want to know so bad, anyway?” 

El actually pauses before saying anything, which gives Mike hope. He counts the seconds before she responds. “Because I like Max.” 

There’s an odd sense of pride in his chest at how easily she admitted that. When he fails to say anything, though, she looks anxious. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Mike answers automatically. “Why would that be weird?”

El glances down at her lap and shrugs. “Maybe she won’t want me to... like her.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Mike scoffs. “You two are best friends and I know for a fact that she’s practically in love with you.” 

There’s a brief, two-second pause, during which El’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline. “What?”

Oh, shit. Maybe Mike wasn’t supposed to tell her that. What was he supposed to tell her? Right. “And I’m sleeping with Lucas. So, there you go.”

Nailed it.

El doesn’t speak for a solid minute, shock radiating off her, back ramrod straight. Mike eyes her when the silence starts to get too weird. “Are you gonna say something?” 

“You’re wasted,” she responds quietly.

“Nope,” Mike counters, shaking his head a little too violently. “Only had a few drinks. Very sober.” 

She shoots him a look.

“Okaaayyy,” he drawls, rolling his head back. “So, I’m a little drunk. Doesn’t change what I said. It’s true. Max is in love with you and Lucas has been fucking me for months. No way those two would get back together.”

Silence, still. He’s getting worried that she’s somehow not okay with the situation when he sees a twitch in the corner of his vision. When he turns slightly, he finds her vibrating with quiet laughter. Like, _laughter._ She brings a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle it, but eventually it slips out. 

Mike is so confused. “El, what—”

El throws her head back and laughs, straight out, the brightest Mike’s ever seen her. He can’t help but smile through her hysteria, entertained by the way the walls seem to shake with her. (Okay, that may be mildly concerning, but his mind’s such a blur, he can’t be bothered thinking about it.)

Once she calms down, practically wiping tears from her eyes, El speaks. “Sorry. I feel like a dumbass.” 

“Why?” Mike chuckles fondly.

El shrugs. “Because... I should have noticed you and Lucas were together. I heard you two through the wall a few times, I think.” 

“Oh goooood,” Mike groans, still smiling. “I’m so sorry.” 

They giggle, which turns into more laughter, which they try to stop, but to no avail. Especially because, when they succeed once, El comments— “I’m not even drunk”— sending them right back to where they started. 

Their voices echo a bit, to the point where they’re shushing each other when they hear the floorboards creak above them. “If it’s fucking Lucas I swear,” Mike mutters, earning a muffled squeak of laughter from El. Whoever it is doesn’t come down the stairs, and they relax again, laying back against the couch. 

“So, then,” Mike sighs, after a few minutes of drifting in comfortable silence. “What about the other thing I said?”

He casts a glance in El’s direction; she looks pensive, a small smile settled on closed lips. It fades, slowly, into wariness. “Are you sure? She...” El stares into Mike’s eyes. “She’s in love with me?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, no hesitation. El can misinterpret hesitation.

She seems satisfied by this response, nodding slightly, smile returning. “Well, then.” She stares confidently up at the ceiling. “I guess I should ask her out.” 

~<:>~

A week later, Max and El are folded into each other, all heart-eyes and giddiness, sharing food, clothes, and honestly being _way_ more obvious than Mike and Lucas ever were. It’s not like the two girls weren’t flirting before, but now they can hardly get off each other’s laps and they literally will not stop whispering and laughing and generally being annoyingly infatuated.

It’s kind of a shit-show when El leaves for her internship. Max whines for a few days to Mike about her loneliness and Mike reminds her that she should be _thanking him_ not _complaining_ , to which she points out that the fact that he _made_ El confess her feelings is the _reason_ she is now lonely. To which he rolls his eyes.

But Max follows her back anyway, right after Dustin leaves. And Lucas starts class half a week before Mike, so eventually it’s just him and Will in Hawkins. 

It’s at this point that Mike decides not to tell him. About the Lucas thing.

He tries to, at first. But it’s complicated. It’s always been complicated with Will. 

They’re sitting on the couch watching _Terminator_ , and it’s Mike’s last night at home. There’s really no better opportunity to have the conversation. As the credits roll, Will lays his head back, blinking slowly. He smiles at Mike, tranquil in a way that anyone who’s been through hell can master. “Still awesome.” 

“Yeah,” Mike agrees. “But I liked the second one more, I think.” 

Will hums in agreement. “Me too. It’s nice to root for the good guy.” 

Silence settles between them and Mike sees his chance. True, he might throw up the second he opens his mouth, but the atmosphere is a lot calmer than it’s ever been when Mike’s had to say this stuff and he feels like he can do it. Angling his body towards Will, he clears his throat. 

“Mike,” Will says quietly before Mike can get a word out. 

“Y-yes?” Mike stumbles over his surprise— smoothly. Clears his throat again for good measure.

With a twist to his mouth, Will continues. “I... I just wanted to... talk to you about something.” 

Mike nods, biting his own lip. “Mmhm. Anything.” 

A small, grateful smile flashes in his direction. Will waits a beat, brown eyes flickering in the light of the TV. He takes a deep breath. “So, um, I’m gay. And I know... I know the last time we really talked about that was... I don’t even know how many years ago.” He looks to Mike as if asking for permission to go on. Melting, Mike nods again, gentler. 

Will exhales quickly. “Yeah. So... that’s a thing. Something that I’m... interested in pursuing when I go back to college. The lifestyle, I mean.” 

Of course he would be, although Mike is surprised that it’s happening this early. Yet, he knows how hard it was— is, still, for Will to talk about it. But he also knows how hard it is to keep it inside. None of this is fucking easy. 

“And I don’t know if you’ve figured something else out,” Will says hesitantly. “Or if you’re still... bisexual, like you told me.” 

“Yes, I am,” Mike responds quickly. “I’m... bisexual.” He shrugs. “Never ‘grew out of it’.” 

Will laughs at his air quotes, a genuine, bright sound that warms Mike’s chest. He returns the smile, enjoying the lighter tone. “So, how is it for you?” Will wonders. “Have you found any guys at school?” 

Instantly, the comfort vanishes and Mike’s entire face heats up. As always. Fuck, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He did, before their conversation became about Will. Now it’ll just be awkward to bring Lucas into the picture. “Yes,” he says, before the silence stretches too long. Shit. “Um, I know a few gay guys... less bisexuals, but, there is...” 

Will’s owl gaze is on him and he swallows. “There is this one... bisexual guy that I’ve been seeing for a few months,” he confesses. 

Eyes even wider, Will breaks into a smile. “Really? That’s awesome!” He pushes Mike’s shoulder excitedly. That— _that_ was pretty unexpected, but Mike rolls with it, grinning back.

“Yeah, it’s been great.” 

“So, are you two...”

“Oh, um, it’s just sex,” Mike clarifies, a little embarrassed, but hey. When is he not. 

“Oh. Right.” Will presses his lips together, looking down at his lap. Despite the surface weight of the topic, it’s a quick deflate. Mike’s concern must shine into Will’s peripherals. “That’s not really what I want,” the smaller boy states. His gaze is so vulnerable, Mike almost wants to kiss him right there.

Almost. Hypothetically.

“I get that,” Mike sympathizes. “Even though I’m good with no labels right now, I might want something more in the future. I mean, I feel like I will.” Will looks at him. “Will... want something more than just sex.” 

Somehow, the tiny perk at the corner of Will’s mouth is enough reassurance for Mike. They drift into a comfortable silence for a bit, both thinking. 

“Mike?” Will says finally, a determined set in his jaw. Mike holds his gaze, waiting for him to continue. “Thank you for always being there for me. Being here,” he corrects, placing a soft hand on Mike’s. 

“Of course.” _I love you._ “You’re my best friend.” 

Fighting the butterflies, he lifts his eyes to meet Will’s. Their faces are mere inches apart. For a moment, it feels like they could— they could actually kiss. Mike can practically see the flecks of gold in Will’s irises, feel the gentle breath on his cheeks, against his mouth. 

As he leans in, a fraction of a centimeter closer, a loud bang outside startles them both. They disconnect, Mike ignoring the tugging in his heart. Will chuckles quietly, easing the tension, and Mike looks at him like it’s the first time he’s really seeing his face. 

“You up for _Aliens_?” Will asks. 

Somewhat surprised, Mike frowns. “At this hour?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand through the scary parts,” Will jokes.

“Oh, haha.” Mike rolls his eyes. “I still have to pack.” 

“So, that’s a yes,” Will expertly concludes, jumping up to put the movie in. Pretending to be aggravated, Mike throws his head back against the couch and groans loudly. All he gets in response is a laugh. 

Fucking hell. Mike is so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost! Mike & Will is endgame in this, don't worry


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Lucas gettin rocky-- another homecoming
> 
> *much drama ahead*

For the majority of their sophomore year, the relationship between Mike and Lucas remains the same. Despite the few ups and downs in their academics, neither of them are all that stressed or unhappy. The sex is still good— well, more than good. It’s fucking _fantastic_ , and Mike isn’t too shy to admit that. He hasn’t felt sexually frustrated in what seems like forever. 

And even though they ‘aren’t exclusive’, they pretty much are, out of safety and because they’re each other’s easiest lays. Which doesn’t bother Mike as much anymore; they really are dating in all but name. They’re together. They’re... lovers. A word which sounds strange in Mike’s head, yet it’s somehow fitting. 

Since the intensity of their schedules has increased from the year before, the old routine gets thrown off, but they establish a new one quickly. Mike’s trips to BU are less frequent, and Lucas starts visiting him at Brandeis to make up for lost time. It’s that change that prompts the shift between them.

Mike... has nightmares. A lot of them. But he tends not to have them when he’s sharing Lucas’s bed. In his own bed, things are different. Sure, Lucas is curled up right behind him, but his mind is used to this space. He’s still vulnerable, even with someone strong.

There’s one night that Mike wakes thrashing, panting, and Lucas holds him, runs his hands down Mike’s arms and whispers comforts into his ear. “You’re okay; it’s okay; you’re safe.” 

Lucas kisses his cheek and Mike grips his hand, pulling their intertwined fingers against his chest. Breathes out slowly, steadily. 

After a few minutes, neither of them close to being asleep again, Mike speaks into the dark. “They’re about him.” 

Lucas knows to wait. “My dreams,” Mike clarifies. “They’re about him.” 

“The shadow monster?” 

“No,” Mike whispers. “Will.” 

He can hear the intake of breath, how subtly sharp it is, and Lucas squeezes his hand. “I dream about losing him,” Mike continues. “Over and over again. And no matter what I do, I can’t save him.” 

After a deafening pause, Lucas sighs. “Is there anything that can stop them?” 

A nervousness flutters through Mike’s chest when he whispers, “You.” 

The lips pressed to the back of Mike’s neck coax him back into dreamless sleep. But from that moment on, their relationship is altered. 

It’s like Lucas looks at him differently. His voice is softer, touches gentler, movements slower. And it’s infuriating. If Mike didn’t know better, he’d almost be under the impression that Lucas has taken _pity_ on him, which could never be true. He won’t let it be true. 

So, he pushes back. Words harsher, looks sharper, kisses hard enough to bruise. And Lucas, in response, is even more distant. Mike misses the easiness, the banter, the casual roughness that they had at the start. The only way to get it back, he decides, is to fight for it. 

And, oh, do they fight. Bicker, more like. About the stupidest little things, because that’s what they’re like, but also because Mike goes looking for arguments. He’ll chalk it up to nostalgia, but he realizes quickly that all this pettiness is driving them further into the problem rather than away from it. 

Good days are when Lucas fights back; most of the time he just snaps or shrugs it off. Their disputes get heated and they end up in passionate fucking sessions. Afterwards, neither of them are happy, and every time it happens the distance between them grows colder. 

From the end of May, through the summer, and into September, this is their altered, unfortunate state. On a day in the latter month so specifically awful, they’ll both remember everything about it for ages, they fight their last battle. 

~<:>~

It starts with Mike getting fired. Which is, you know, great, because he hated his minimum wage campus job anyway, but it’s not exactly the best way to begin the semester, and now he has to find a new place to work. So he won’t get paid for at least three weeks and that’s a lot of money down the drain all because he snapped at his boss and he’s just— frustrated. 

Then, he’s trying to write this report that’s due Monday, and it’s Saturday, and he hasn’t done a word of it, and staring at a blank page for half an hour is not his idea of fun. 

On top of that, Lucas will be here any minute and Mike’s still perpetually mad at him. But, on the plus side, he’s definitely in the mood for angry sex. 

When Lucas arrives, Mike doesn’t even say hello. He just closes and locks the door so he can press the other boy against it, kissing him hard. Lucas drops his bag, responding immediately, matching his aggression. He hasn’t done that in a while, and it sends a satisfied chill down Mike’s spine. 

They go at it for a minute, panting heavily, before Mike moves to Lucas’s neck. Slots their legs together, fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Lucas sighs, leaning in, but as soon as Mike’s hands move upward, his own come down to stop them. 

“Mike. Wait.” 

With a frustrated growl, Mike pulls back. “What?” 

Lucas ignores that, looking him dead in the eye. “We need to talk.” 

Anger and arousal course through Mike simultaneously. “You didn’t come here to talk,” he argues, gripping Lucas through his pants, but he’s pushed away once again.

“Yes, I did,” Lucas says shortly. He stalks past Mike into the room, pacing twice before turning around. “What is going on with you?”

He looks upset, which fuels Mike’s irritation. “You’re going to have to be more specific.” 

“You know what I mean,” Lucas snaps. “For, like, four months you’ve been aggressively after my dick and nothing else.” 

“I thought that was the arrangement,” Mike replies, only somewhat sarcastic. 

Lucas narrows his eyes. “Okay, you can stop being an asshole. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“ _I’m_ being an asshole?” 

“Yeah—”

“You’re the one who went all soft on me!” Mike reminds him. 

Lucas takes a step back, confused. “Soft?”

“Look, I know I’m a basket case, alright? But I don’t need your fucking pity!” Mike spits. “I need you to be the way you were before I told you about my nightmares. Stop treating me like I’m going to fucking break all the time!”

For a moment, Lucas is quiet, staring at Mike with creased brows, as though trying to figure something out. “You think I pity you?” he says finally. 

“Whatever it is you think, stop thinking it,” Mike responds bitterly. “You’re making this whole thing complicated.” 

When the silence stretches another few minutes, Mike starts to feel guilty for shouting. He searches Lucas’s face for a sign, but Lucas isn’t looking at him anymore. When he does speak, it’s low with defeat. “Yeah, I guess I am.” 

Mike moves closer, hesitant, reaching to take Lucas’s hands, but the second he makes contact, Lucas breaks it. “I’m gonna go,” he says, heading towards the door.

Annoyance flashes through Mike again. “You just got here.” 

“Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have come.” 

“Lucas, what the fuck?” Mike thinks it’s enough to stop him but Lucas doesn’t respond, picks up his bag, fingertips on the door handle. “Lucas!” Mike crosses the tiny room in a flash, grabbing his friend’s arm as he tenses, trying to shake Mike off. 

“Let me go.” 

“Look at me,” Mike demands. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with _me_?” Lucas scoffs, squaring off. “Mike, did you ever think that there was a reason other than pity, that I’d be treating you, I don’t know, gently?” 

“What other reason?” Mike asks, curiosity seeping through his anger.

“You’re impossible.” 

“What, you can’t tell me?” 

“I’d rather not.” 

Mike’s about to pull his hair out. “Then _what the fuck_?” 

“I’m in love with you.” 

He says it so fast, so casually, that Mike almost misses it. 

Takes about five seconds for the meaning to kick in, and it’s like someone actually does kick him, in the gut. “W-what?” 

At first, he thinks it’s a joke. But he sees the look on Lucas’s face, and suddenly everything from the past few months makes sense. The touches, the care, the concern, the way he would catch Lucas looking at him sometimes. The _softness_... the vulnerability... fuck. 

“Yeah,” Lucas says, hurt evident in his voice. “Bet you never considered that, huh, Wheeler?” 

He really didn’t— but why would he? Why would Lucas Fucking Sinclair feel anything like that towards him? He doesn’t even know what Lucas sees in him to begin with. No, this has to be some sort of mistake. 

“You’re not— you’re not in love with me,” Mike states dumbly.

Lucas inhales, tilting his head back. Exhales deeply. “Mike, I’ve loved you for years now. And I knew, when I was getting myself into... this.” He pauses. “I knew it was a bad idea. And that you’d... never feel the same way.” 

“Lucas, I...” Mike starts, but he can’t finish. A hot blush creeps up the back of his neck as he realizes what a heap of shit they’re in now. Lucas is right. Lucas is right, and Mike feels fucking awful. 

“It’s okay,” Lucas says, sounding _not okay at all_. “I know it’s always been Will for you.” 

Mike can’t even _begin_ to respond to that. 

As Lucas prepares to exit again, Mike stops him. “Lucas, wait. I...” He gulps, head rushing with thoughts. “I still want this. I still want you. Can’t we...”

“No, Mike,” Lucas says, firm, shaking his head. “We can’t.” Softer. “I can’t.” 

When he leaves, it’s like a piece of Mike goes with him. All the guilt he’s ever felt coils in the pit of his stomach and he curls up in bed to cry against the silence of his room.

~<:>~

The next few months Mike spends in misery. When he’s not in class, he’s traipsing around his dorm in a blanket. His friends start to worry about him, since it becomes clear that the increasingly cold weather isn’t the only thing affecting him. He shrugs them off most days, choosing to bury himself in work or bed. 

Surprisingly, his social life is all that suffers. Well, that and his sleep schedule. And his mood. Still, he’s better at keeping up with his work than he has been all year. One teacher even comments that he seems distraught but his grades are through the roof, so? Mike can’t explain it. Maybe the lack of constant sex is allowing him to focus more, although now he's horny all the time, which adds to his displeasure. 

He thinks about emailing Lucas or writing him, even flicks the walkie on and off a couple times. He can never do it. Their conversation seemed so final, and Mike can’t get up the courage to apologize or try to work things out. He still writes to the others, Max especially. She’s the only one he tells about what happens, though he doesn’t know if Lucas has said anything. It’s fair to assume Dustin knows, too. El and Will, as always, are a mystery. 

Around December, Mike starts to feel a little bit more himself. Not that he’s not accustomed to being a solid mess. He gets back into routine, starts hanging out with his friends again. He allows himself a few nights of drinking and hooking up, with girls obviously. It’s a little awkward to get back into that the first time, but after the second and third, he thinks it’s going well. 

Nothing really sticks, though. He doesn’t turn into a player or anything, but it’s expected that he’ll hook up with a girl every so often. If he’s not in the mood, he’ll head back early, but he’s rarely not in the mood. It feels fine to be single and free like this. Despite what it took to get here. 

He assumes everyone will be going back for the winter break again, which will undoubtedly be awkward as hell. When it comes time for Mike to leave, he’s one of the last ones still at school. Will and Lucas are as well— that alleviates mountains of stress if Mike’s being honest. He’ll likely hole up in his house to avoid the latter boy, but at least now he has a few days to be out in the open. 

His family is happy to see him, especially Holly, who has just turned twelve and is still energetic and bright as ever. He scoops her up when he sees her, pretending it’s difficult (it kind of is) and jokes that he won’t be able to for much longer. She giggles and demands to be put down, but he knows she loves it. It's kind of weird for him to look at her and realize she's the same age they all were when all the paranormal shit went down. She seems so much younger, still innocent. 

Nancy’s dating some guy from her workplace, about whom she gushes extensively. Mike mocks her by fake gagging every so often, earning him a smack upside the head. Dinner as usual. 

Once Mike’s unpacked and settled in, he walks over to Dustin’s, where Max and El are already lounging. He’s assaulted by hugs as soon as he steps over the threshold. They end up in a group pile on the couch, El practically sitting in Max’s lap and Mike smushed between her and Dustin. They binge all six _Star Trek_ movies and Mike’s the only one who stays awake to the end. 

The next few days pass slowly, all of them excited to be away from responsibility and thus taking all the time they can to be lazy. Dustin’s house is a good hangout since his mom doesn’t mind them being over, but Max’s parents are rarely home, so they tend to go there more. El is staying there for the break because Hopper is, unfortunately, away, but he’s been writing her every day, which she shares with them in an attempt to mock his softness. 

It’s easy being just the four of them. Although El and Max get couple-y, Mike and Dustin are fine being third and fourth wheels. Mike really doesn’t see Dustin as anything more than a friend, and that’s kind of what he needs right now. 

Saturday night, Mike gets a call from Max. They’ve spent the day separately, Mike completely alone in his house since the rest of his family is out. He picks up expecting to hear a sarcastically affectionate greeting, but instead he gets distress. 

_“Mike?”_

It sounds more like a sob than his name. His mood switches immediately. “Max? What is it?” 

_“Um—”_ There’s crackling on the other end. _“I need you to come over. Right now. Please—”_

“Okay,” Mike says, trying not to panic. “Okay, where are you? Are you home?” 

_“Yes,”_ she responds. _“Mike, please, hurry—”_

“I’m coming.” He’s already stumbling into his shoes and coat, leaving the phone dangling by its cord. The cars are gone so he has to take his bike. Cold air bites against his skin with how fast he pedals, just barely managing to avoid the occasional vehicle that blocks his path. 

The lights are on at Max’s house, but he can’t exactly see inside to make out what’s going on. He struggles against the pitch black until he gets up to knock on the front door. There’s a beat before it opens, and Mike’s more than startled to see Lucas standing on the other side. 

Both boys freeze at the sight of one another, not sure how to continue. Mike opens and closes his mouth like a fish. Lucas simply looks pained. Trying to regain some semblance of the situation, Mike looks past him and makes eye contact with Max, who’s sitting inside on her couch. She raises her head from where it was in her hands. “Mike?” 

It breaks the tension; Lucas blinks and steps aside to let Mike in. Max hits him full force as soon as he crosses to the carpet. Mike holds her, unsure of what else to do. She shakes in his arms. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. 

Mike glances up at Lucas, who’s moved to the other side of the room. “I just got here,” he says, reading Mike so easily. “Not sure what happened.” 

Mike nods, holding his gaze. He pulls back from Max. “What did happen, Max? Can you tell us?” 

Max shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It was my fault— all my fault, I— I forgot he was coming back.” 

Dread knots itself in the base of Mike’s stomach. “Who?” 

Max looks like she won’t say it, but she does, and the second her lips quiver around the name, Mike curls his fist. “Billy.” 

She leads them into the kitchen, where Billy is sprawled between the floor and the wall, eyes closed. There’s spots of blood on the tile around him, and Mike’s not sure who it belongs to. Lucas tenses beside him. “Is he—”

“I don’t know,” Max says. “I was too scared to check.” 

Lucas moves forward while Mike hangs back with Max, taking her hand to keep her from shaking. She turns her face into his shoulder, clinging to him while Lucas presses two fingers to Billy’s neck. Mike holds his breath. “Well?” 

“He’s alive,” Lucas exhales, the affect reverberating around the room. Max looks back up. “We have to get him to a hospital,” Lucas says, standing. 

“No, we can’t!” Max protests quickly. Mike and Lucas stare at her. “That’s why I called you, I— they’re gonna want to know who did it.” 

That’s when it clicks. “El,” Mike utters. Max nods. 

Lucas looks shaken. “El did this?” 

“Where is she?” Mike asks. “Did she run?” 

“No,” Max says, hands in her hair. “No, that’s just it, she didn’t mean to, it— it all happened so fast—”

Lucas comes over, gently placing his hands on the redhead’s shoulders. “Max. Breathe.” He cups her face. “Breathe.” 

Mike watches as her chest heaves slower and she nods. His own chest constricts slightly, but he’s not sure what it means. “Where is El?” he asks. 

Lucas and Max glance over at him, Lucas removing his hands from her face. Max bites her lip. “She’s upstairs.” 

They find her lying limp on Max’s bed. Mike hurries over immediately, hands on her neck and forehead. He feels pulsing, very slight and spaced out. Dried blood has crusted around her nose and mouth. Mike makes eye contact with Lucas, who’s standing over beside Max. They seem to be thinking the same thing. “What the hell happened?” 

Max shifts, arms crossed. She looks like she’s going to collapse at any second, but she starts, shaking her head. “Billy… came home while we were in the kitchen… while we were…” She pauses. “Well, we were kissing. And we didn’t have much… on.” 

Mike notices then that neither Max nor El are wearing much, despite it being freezing outside. It looks like Max put on a sweatshirt and covered El with a blanket. Max furrows her brow. “And Billy came in and saw us. And like the asshole he is he decided to start throwing insults around. I mean, we’ve been cool for years now, but that was only because he was scared of me. Then he sees me kissing El and thinks that makes me vulnerable, thinks he can call us disgusting dykes and ask to join in the same fucking sentence.” 

Mike and Lucas exchange another look. There’s a hard set in Lucas’s jaw and Mike can’t say he doesn’t want to punch something right now, too. “El wasn’t putting up with any of it,” Max continues. “She called him names right back. I said we should just go upstairs and let him jack off alone, but she didn’t want to— to let him get away with it. And when I tried to leave the kitchen, he grabbed my arm, and El—” 

Max breaks off, tears pooling in her eyes again. “El just snapped. She shot her hand out and sent him flying. And then her nose— she started bleeding and she hasn’t bled in a while— she hasn’t had to use that much power— and I was scared, and I was asking her if she was alright and then Billy got back up— he got back up and tried to charge us, but El screamed and he hit the back wall so hard—”

Max brings a hand to her mouth. “And El collapsed in my arms and I tried to get her to stand, but she was really weak and I didn’t know what else to do so I dragged her up here so that she could lie down but— once she did she stopped moving altogether and I didn’t know what to do and when I went downstairs Billy was out cold and so I called everyone, I—” 

She folds into herself, fingers covering her face. Lucas steps over and wraps his arms around her as she shakes, gentle. He looks at Mike over the top of her head, eyes betraying him. Neither of them know what to do next. 

Mike turns his attention to El, pushing the hair back from her forehead. She looks like a ghost. There haven’t been many incidents since middle school where she’s been this bad, and even then there were doctors to take care of her. 

But they’re scientists. And El is special. They can figure this out. 

“Who else did you call?” Mike asks. 

Lucas loosens his arms so Max can reply. “Will wasn’t home, but I reached Dustin.”

“He should be here soon, then,” Mike murmurs. “Okay, we can work with that.” 

The doorbell rings from downstairs, followed by furious knocking. Lucas shoots Mike a look. “That’ll be him.” 

“What if it isn’t?” Mike reminds him. 

“I’ll take care of it, Mike,” Lucas says. “You two stay up here.” 

As soon as he leaves, Mike turns to Max. “Do you have any eucalyptus?” 

“What?”

“Eucalyptus, like the leaves or something. It’s a strong smell that also targets the brain; it could help wake her up,” Mike explains. 

Max looks dazed and confused. “Okay?”

“Do you have any?”

“I don’t fucking know, Mike.”

“Okay, then peppermint. Do you have peppermint?” 

Max nods slowly. “Yeah, I have candy canes for Christmas.” 

“That’ll have to do.” Mike stands. “I’ll lift her legs to try and resupply her RAS.” He moves around the bed, starting with her feet. 

“RAS,” Max murmurs, turning to leave. “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

Mike watches her go with a pang of sympathy. It must be pretty damn hard for her to have seen all this shit happen. Thank God he’s known for keeping his head in life-threatening situations. They all are. 

El doesn’t react to his touch, but it’s only been a few seconds, so Mike doesn’t panic. He lifts her legs inch by inch until they’re perpendicular to her hips, which is where he keeps them, praying this will work. 

There’s loud footsteps behind him and he hears multiple people enter. 

“Holy shit, Mike,” Dustin swears. 

Mike ignores that. “Help me. We need to get the blood back into her head. She’s lost a lot of it.” 

Dustin and Lucas divide and conquer, taking separate sides of the bed. “Put pillows under her,” Mike instructs. “We have to invert her without risking any further damage.” 

“I have the peppermint,” Max says from the doorway. 

Mike turns and sees her arms stacked with three boxes of candy canes. “Good thing you stock up on those.” 

“Oh, shut up. What do I do with them?”

“Unwrap them.” Mike jerks his head towards El. “And stick them under her nose.” 

“Am I the only one who thinks maybe we should be worrying about Billy?” Dustin says, shoving another pillow into the mound. 

“Fuck Billy!” Mike snaps. 

“We can’t let him die, Mike,” Lucas says. “El will go to jail for that.” 

“Yeah, and she’d break out and have to be on the run again, I get it,” Mike fires back. His eyes water unhelpfully. “I just need her to wake up.” 

Max tears open another wrapper, grabs the five candy canes on the dresser, and hurries over to place them around El’s head, holding one under her nose. Lucas and Dustin finish setting up the pillows and step back. 

“Come on, baby,” Max whispers tearily, stroking her hair. “Come on.” 

Mike’s chest tightens to watch. It’s like they’re all holding their breath. 

After a few tense moments, Lucas breaks the trance, walking to Mike’s shoulder. “We have to get Billy to a hospital.” 

“We can’t,” Mike says weakly. 

“There’s nothing we can do for him here! None of us are training to be _medical_ doctors!” 

“Yeah, that and he needs professional help,” Dustin adds. “Even if we tried something ourselves—”

“Fine,” Mike concedes. “We can drop him off at a hospital. But no one can know it was us.” 

Dustin snorts. “So, what, we steal a car, rip the plates off, drive to the hospital, and dump him on their doorstep?” 

They look at each other, silent. 

Lucas rubs his chin. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” 

“I’m kind of a genius,” Dustin says in awe. 

From the opposite end of the bed, Max gasps and Mike looks over just in time to see El’s eyes fly open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love a cliffhanger :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Will-- transition chapter from college life to adult life

They get back at around four in the morning—Dustin, Lucas, and Mike—from dumping Billy’s body in front of the hospital. No one sleeps, though, all taking turns watching El and waiting for the phone to ring. Mike and Lucas do most of the work scrubbing the kitchen clean, bleaching away the bloodstains and sealing the cracks in the wall. It’s not until the eight a.m. news comes on that they find out Billy’s alive.

Some of the tension eases, quickly replaced by new worries, as Billy will undoubtedly be identified as Max’s brother, tying his injury back to her. And her parents as well; who knows what they’ll think about all this. Mike looks over at her to gage a reaction, but her earlier hysteria is completely gone. She’s back to her usual, hard-edged self, hands folded tightly, elbows on her thighs.

“With a head-wound like that he’s bound to have blacked out,” she says, leaning back against the couch. “I’m pretty sure he was drunk before, anyway.”

“What if he does remember?” Dustin asks from beside her.

Max turns to him. “He’s the only witness. No one will be able to corroborate his story. Besides, even if he remembers seeing me, or El, could we really have thrown him back so hard?”

“I mean…” Dustin looks around at them. “Yes?”

“Billy’s not stupid enough to say a girl telekinetically knocked him out,” Max snaps. “And if he is, no one’s going to believe him.”

The room falls silent, save for the television, where the reporter is going on about _blunt force trauma_. Mike looks to Max. “What about your parents?” he asks. “Didn’t they know he was coming here?”

Max shrugs. “I’ll just say he never came home. His car’s not here. He could have gone to a bar, gotten into a fight. They can’t expect me to know.” She tightens her jaw. “I’m not his fucking keeper.”

~<:>~

Billy doesn’t remember anything.

They can all breathe again at the statement. Over time, he might regain bits and pieces of the event, but like Max said, no one will believe him. That’s enough for Mike to push the worry to the back of his mind, if only for the time being.

El, on the other hand, remembers everything. When she’s finally coherent enough to speak, she tries to apologize. Max doesn’t let her, insisting that she did it to protect them. She takes El’s hands in hers and Mike watches them with that same strange tightness in his chest he felt earlier.

Dustin expresses relief at the fact that they’re not all going to jail, to which Lucas responds that they very well still could, to which Max hits him on the back of the head.

In the midst of all this, Max’s front door opens and they’re greeted with the sight of Will. They all instinctively jump at him, throwing outbursts of relief and joy at seeing their friend. But before they can talk about anything in confidence, Will is followed by a tall, blonde, Scandinavian-looking motherfucker whom he introduces as “Jerome.”

And they link their fingers.

Mike feels everyone’s gaze snap to him, but he ignores them and shakes the guy’s hand, forcing a pleasant expression onto his face. When he pulls back, he locks eyes with Lucas, who smirks knowingly.

“Where did you say you were from?” Lucas asks Jerome.

Will smiles and replies, “Vermont.”

Mike flips Lucas a not-so-subtle bird on his way out of the room.

~<:>~

The rest of the break is decidedly hell.

Max is detained for a short period because of the whole Billy situation, but as promised, she talks her way out of any involvement. Her parents are more furious that Billy got himself carelessly injured while they were away (and Mike thought his own family was dysfunctional).

Both she and El keep to themselves once everything’s sorted. Most likely to talk about how disgustingly in love they are, which Mike is not salty about whatsoever. It’s not as though he’s the one who set them up or anything. And now his own quest for love has been usurped by a chiseled-ass fucking Viking with more charm than brains.

Mike guesses he would have been fine if it weren’t for the fact that basically everyone knows about his affection for Will, including Lucas, which makes everything that much more awkward. Of course, Will never explicitly stated that Jerome is his boyfriend, but it’s obvious in the way they interact. Fucking Jerome with his square fucking jaw. The icing on the cake—he’s inches, _inches_ taller than Mike. That motherfucker.

And Mike tries to deny it. He tries to pretend that his jealousy has nothing to do with Will or his gorgeous armpiece, but that argument is weak even to Mike’s own delusional subconscious. There’s no other reason he wants to bash Jerome’s head in when the guy smiles. So he seethes away and attempts to ignore the knowing looks from his friends and sulks in the corner on Christmas Eve, when they have a small gathering at Dustin’s house complete with alcoholic beverages, which Mike downs instantly to shake the image of Will and discount Thor from his skull.

Lucas is the one that goes to him—in an appropriate stroke of karma. They’re standing in the kitchen, looking out over the lights and music and people talking, pointedly not focusing in on Will and Jerome on the couch. Shaking his head, Lucas sets his glass down and turns to lean against the counter, back to the party.

“You should talk to him,” he says.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay.”

There’s a moment of tension between them before Lucas speaks again. “Look, I know this is kind of weird for us to be talking about, but—”

Mike lets out a scoff as he drinks. “But,” Lucas continues, harder. “You’re making everything complicated.”

It’s not a surprise that Lucas would hit him with his own words like that, but it still fucking stings. Mike can’t even look at him to respond. “So, what, I’m ruining everyone’s fun by having feelings? I guess we both know what that’s like.”

Mike wants to apologize as soon as he says it, but he doubts his pride will let him. Instead, he looks guiltily at Lucas, trying to gage whether or not it’s actually been long enough to press on that tender spot between them. Lucas’s face betrays nothing, though. He just sighs.

“Believe it or not, I don’t want to fight with you,” he says, and it comes out tired.

Mike grimaces, softly. “I believe it,” he says. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re always fighting, aren’t we?”

“Because you’re so fucking stubborn,” Lucas mutters.

Mike frowns. “If you don’t want to fight, what do you want?”

He knows he doesn’t have the right to be the angry one here. But he’s never claimed to be the bigger person, and he’s more annoyed at himself than anything. Now he knows how Lucas felt when Mike turned him away, how deep it cuts to know your affections aren’t returned. It feels like justice, so he wallows in it, if only for Lucas’s sake.

Said friend turns back around and bumps their shoulders, breaking Mike from his thoughts. “I want _you_ to stop being such a hypocrite and go talk to him.”

“And tell him what?” Mike asks, genuinely curious as to whether or not Lucas has an answer.

“Tell him the truth.”

Mike scoffs again. “Yeah, no thanks. I have bad enough timing without your help.” He side-eyes Lucas. “You don’t really want me to talk to him. Admit it, you’re enjoying this a little.”

Lucas looks down and smirks. “A little.”

“Go ahead,” Mike says, seriously. “I deserve this.”

As he takes another drink, Lucas shakes his head. “No you don’t, Mike. Nobody does. It’s just…” He shrugs. “Something we all have to deal with at some point.”

Mike can hardly believe he’s hearing this from Lucas of all people. “God, you’re decent,” he practically whines. “Why can’t I just be in love with you instead?”

Without missing a beat, Lucas replies, “Because you have terrible taste in men.”

They lock eyes for a moment, and Mike can see the mirth dancing in Lucas’s face, and he feels a sudden rush of warmth at how easily they’ve fallen back into their rhythm. It’s not going to be perfect. Mike knows that. The damage is done, and Lucas probably won’t get over what happened all at once. But Mike’s glad they’ve re-established some semblance of safety, that they can still be friends. Without benefits.

In all honesty, Mike _wants_ to fall for Lucas. He’s been trying since they broke up. It would make his life so much fucking easier. But it’s the same trick he tried with El, and neither of them could pull it off for long. He can’t choose who his heart belongs to. No matter what he does, it’ll always be Will for him.

Which brings him back to his mild offense at Lucas’s off-hand comment. “Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say about Will?”

~<:>~

Despite the obvious discomfort everyone feels at Jerome being… there, when it’s usually just the six of them, they do try to make him feel welcome. Everyone but Mike is successful, but hey. He is _trying_. It helps to see the smile on Will’s face when he does.

The most unfortunate thing that Mike can’t seem to get is any alone time with Will, however. Jerome is always glued to his side like the sticky pages of the fucking comic book from whence he came. A shitty one—like, the worst _X-Men_ timeline. Not even Spider-Man or _The Avengers_.

It takes Mike and Will (and Jerome) being the last ones at home for them to actually have a conversation.

The three of them meet up for dinner on Will and Jerome’s last night. After a ridiculously long meal according to Mike’s standards—as he was friendly towards Jerome for an entire hour and a half—the Viking kisses Will on the cheek and says he’s going to turn in early to pack. Will watches him go with heart eyes and Mike stabs a little too angrily at the last piece of food on his plate.

Will turns back to Mike with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever worn. “Honestly,” he says. “If I’d told myself where I am right now, back when I was… figuring all this shit out, I would have laughed in my own face.”

Mike can’t help but smile with him. “Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh?”

It only takes a few minutes for them to slip into normal conversation. Soon, Mike’s jealousy has been shoved down to make room for how genuinely happy he is, for Will. To have come so far, carrying this secret, plus all the other emotional baggage he’s got… Mike knows the feeling.

He almost wishes he could tell Will, here and now, that he’s in love with him. Almost. Because while it’s good to be honest, it would be selfish, and Mike can’t—

He can’t. Not with Will.

Just as this thought begins to settle, Will’s posture shifts and he looks at Mike intently when he speaks.  “Hey, so. You and Lucas broke up?”

Mike nearly chokes on his own saliva. Heart speeding up, he searches Will’s eyes for any signs of hostility or betrayal. He finds only sympathy. “Yeah, how did you…?”

“It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Will admits. “I mean, I may have intentionally ignored the signs, but after you told me about that… guy you were sleeping with? I could see it.”

 _He may have intentionally ignored the signs?_ Mike pushes that to the back of his mind. “I’m sorry.” His instinct is to reach toward Will, but he fights it, tensing his arm back. “That I didn’t tell you.”

“But, you did tell me, Mike,” Will teases. “Just not directly.”

Mike grimaces. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Will repeats, and he still looks perfectly fine. Mike tries not to let that sting too much. “Seriously. It’s not like we have to tell each other everything.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. Mike wants to ask him if he’s joking, even though it’s pretty clear he isn’t. That draws his mind toward everything Will probably hasn’t told him, and whether or not growing closer to Lucas has pushed him further and further away from his best friend. From the one person he never wanted to lose.

Will stands. “I should go. I have to pack, too.”

Mike barely has time to react properly, but he raises his eyebrows and Will winks at him, turning and leaving Mike to watch his back disappear.

Fucking hell.

They really have fallen apart, haven’t they?

~<:>~

Mike graduates from Brandeis with a degree in physics, biochemistry, and chemical engineering (yeah, he couldn’t quite decide which one to drop). He doesn’t end up going to grad school, and it’s not about money. He could get a full ride anywhere he applied, despite his mediocre grades and lack of interest.  

It’s not that he doesn’t want to pursue science further. It’s just that by the end of his senior year, he knows what he wants to do. So he gets his teaching certificate as fast as humanly possible and starts applying for jobs.

It’s not so easy without a Ph.D. Out of their friends, Mike and Lucas are the only two who don’t continue schooling. El and Max both drop out of the program after a year, but Dustin and Will pull through.

In the end, Mike snags a position at Caltech, teaching Quantum Mechanics and Experiments in Electromagnetism. The workload is a bitch, but he promises to handle it, considering the board agreed to hire him at twenty-four— and with a bit of a record for blowing shit up at his previous schools, too.

Lucas starts his career as a scientific journalist for _Energy Conversion and Management_ , accepted as a paid intern not long after Mike gets hired. El and Max go off the grid for a while before Mike receives a letter that they’ve decided to lay low in _Sweden_ , courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield’s bank accounts. And El’s twisted sense of humor.

The two of them have pretty much been on-edge since the whole Billy incident. That never did come back to bite them due to Billy’s proclivity to get into bar fights. Mike figures he’s got enough brain damage at this point he doesn’t remember who Max even is.

Besides that, it’s hard for El to hide from agencies in the U.S. since her power is so strong; an innate part of who she is that she can’t just put away, Mike understands. She fits so smoothly with Max, like she never did with Mike. Romantically speaking, anyway. Mike is happy they have each other for the roads ahead. 

Dustin and Will get their Ph.D.’s in what feels like no time. Mike’s far enough away from home that he misses the drama when Lonnie tries to throw Will a celebratory bash on Joyce’s property. Two weeks later, the coroner’s report deems him dead on the scene of a DUI. Shame, really. Mike would’ve loved to punch the guy at least once before he died.

He writes to Will to send his… well, “condolences” and finds out that Will’s been offered a position similar to Mike’s at his second alma mater, Berkley. Mike doesn’t let his hopes rise when he realizes they’ll be in the same state, although it would be nice to have someone from the group less than a hundred miles away for the first time in four years.

Mike visits Nancy, Holly, and his parents when he can. They only connect anymore through the mail, though. Dinners at home are hell—awkward silences or screaming matches that always end with someone leaving in a flurry. Not to mention the relationship drama with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve that has his mother in a twist. Mike really hopes those three sort themselves out before the new millennium hits. 

At least Mike doesn’t have to worry about relationships; ever since that whatever-it-was with Lucas, all he’s had are minor flings with guys and girls who aren’t really in it for anything but the sex. Very minor, though. Mike’s been careful; he’s not HIV positive, and he never wants to be.

It gets pretty lonely in the adult world. He’s used to being alone, but loneliness is different. It’s empty, and filled with echoes. The only solace he really has is in his students.

There’s one slipping a paper under his door as he walks toward his office in the physics department. Daniel from his section four magnetism class. Kid was only a freshman Mike’s first year, and even then his work was impressive. Turning in extra assignments is nothing new for him.

“That the paradox research?” Mike asks, startling Daniel a bit.

“Professor Wheeler. Hi. Uh, yes, it’s—what I could find on the time paradox we were discussing last week.”

“What you could _find_?” Mike unlocks the door with an eyebrow raised. “Sure you didn’t write some of it yourself?”

“I would never do that, sir,” Daniel starts to ramble, picking up his paper from the floor. Mike waves him off.

“You’re smarter than anyone who’s already written about it. We both know that.” Mike accepts the paper with a small smile at Daniel’s modesty. “I’ll have it back to you Monday.”

“Thank you, sir.” Daniel half-bows. “I mean, Professor. It’s really, very nice of you to take time out of your day—”

“You have somewhere to be, Daniel?” Mike interrupts casually, settling into his desk. 

The kid seems to hesitate before realizing he’s been dismissed. “Absolutely, sir. I mean, Professor. Wheeler. I’ll—see you in class.”

“Shut the door on your way out, will you?”

Once he’s gone, Mike shakes his head. He can’t pretend he didn’t used to be that bumbling, but damn. That is one funny kid.

Though Mike still feels like a kid somedays. Most days, actually, when he’s not in class. Especially now, as he’s staring at all the papers he has to grade, the only thought in his head that he absolutely has to binge _Twin Peaks_ when he gets home. The typical activity of someone bridging the gap between adolescence and adulthood, he supposes.

It’s nearly six o’clock by the time Mike finishes, fully equipped with a headache and a list of reminders concerning how to write academically that he feels obliged to go over in class on Monday. He re-organizes his desk for office hours, remembering to stuff Daniel’s research into his bag before exiting.

On the way to his car—lost deep in thought because of the cliffhanger results which he’s about to witness—Mike passes the astronomy department, a flash of color catching his eye. He blinks at the familiar coat. The figure is moving down the steps, away from him, so he can’t be sure, but…

“Will?”

The figure stops and turns, causing Mike to freeze in his tracks. It _is_ Will: twenty-seven and all filled out, the hint of a smile on his face, big brown eyes shining in the fading light. Mike’s in such a state of shock that his heart forgets to start racing. Until Will speaks.

“Hey, Mike.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Byler would be endgame and I meant it :3 Also sorry for the constant LOST references but I just gotta (Daniel Faraday is around Mike's age plus electromagnetism)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will & Mike-- catching up, being professors, reconnecting, ya know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Mike takes a step forward, instinctive. “What—what are you doing here?”

Will’s moved closer to him, too, smile still in his eyes. “Actually, I’m… here for a job interview.”

Mike raises his eyebrows, gesturing to the astronomy department doors. “In there?”

“Yeah.” Will issues an incredulous laugh, which Mike finds himself echoing. “They want me to teach.”

 _What the fuck?_ Mike shakes his head, as though this is some sort of hallucination. “I-I thought you were… taking that position at Berkley?”

Will shrugs. “One of a few different offers. To be honest, I’d rather work here.”

He looks up at Mike, almost shyly, and Mike doesn’t know how to respond, other than releasing an enormous sigh and moving forward to crush his friend in a hug.

“Fuck,” he lets out. “I missed you.”

Will laughs and squeezes him tighter before they pull back. “I missed you, too.”

There’s a brief moment of tension, during which Mike shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks backward on his heels—his typical move when flooded with awkward energy. Will eyes him with amusement. _Twenty-seven_. Fucking hell. They really are adults now.

Though he’s always transported back in time when he’s around his friends. When he looks at Will, he can still see the twelve-year-old boy in his huge brown eyes. Despite the fact that this Will is one he only really recognizes from photographs. This Will gives off the impression of responsibility. This Will has to shave to keep that stubble-free jaw. This Will is… taller, wider. More confidence, less fear. With a carefree, but clean outward appearance.

This Will is _fucking_ attractive. As if Mike needed any more reason to like him.

“Do you wanna… grab a drink?” the gorgeous Will asks.

Mike blinks out of his thoughts. “Now?”

“Sure, now. It’s only…” Will reaches forward and takes Mike’s wrist so he can read the time. “Five past six.”

Mike tries not to pay attention to how his skin burns and his heart pumps too loudly in his throat. “Y-yeah.” Draws his hand back gently, noticing how Will lingers. “I know a place.”

“I’d hope so,” Will teases. “You do live here.”

They stare for maybe a second too long and break gaze at exactly the same time.

Mike is so, so, _so_ , so screwed.

~<:>~

When they get there, Mike picks a booth towards the back of the bar, where the two of them can sit secluded. There happen to be a few nondescript restaurant-goers who have chosen to start making out in various locations around them.

“Classy,” Will remarks, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. It’s Friday night.” He catches eyes with the nearest waiter—who happens to be _Kevin_. Of course. Kevin, who Mike’s slept with. His attempt to look away is in vain, because Kevin comes bustling over to their table almost immediately.

“What can I get for you?” The flash of white teeth is enough to make Mike want to bolt, or at least dig himself into a hole. (Although it seems like he’s pretty good at the latter already. Couldn’t he have thought of one of the many places he didn’t have sex with the staff?!)

“I’ll just have water,” Will says politely.

“The same,” Mike manages, still avoiding eye contact. If Kevin notices, or cares, he doesn’t give anything away.

Once he’s gone, Will leans back against the booth. “So. You still teaching quantum theory?”

“Quantum mechanics,” Mike corrects. “Yeah. The kids in electromagnetism are a lot more fun, though. And the higher-ups have actually got me on the schedule for Relativistic Quantum Field Theory next semester.”

“Really?” Will raises his eyebrows. “Are you okay with that?”

“Oh, hell, yeah.” Mike grins. “Be a good change of pace from all these indoor courses.”

Will narrows his eyes at the flat attempt at a joke. “You do know field theory doesn’t mean you work in a—”

“Yes, Will,” Mike says, shaking his head. “What are you being hired to teach, then? Astronomy?”

“Well, yes and no,” Will answers, his posture and hand gestures reflective of the noncommittal answer. “Astrophysics, which technically operates in both departments. I’m figuring they’ll want me for relativistic or high energy…” He pauses, looking Mike directly in the eyes and lowering his voice. “But what I really want to teach, what isn’t offered anywhere else, is Aztec Metaphysics.”

Mike’s impressed. “So _that’s_ why you want this job?” He says it as though he’s teasing, but he might be relying on the answer for emotional security.

“Yes and no,” Will says again, cryptically.

Mike only has time to shake his head before Kevin comes back with their water. “Can I get anything else for you gentlemen?”

“We might need a minute…” Mike starts, but Will jumps in.

“Could we just get a basket of fries for the table to start?”

“Of course.” Kevin smiles. “Coming right up.”

As he disappears again, Mike looks to Will to gage whether or not they’ll restart their conversation. He hates lulls if he doesn’t have anything prepped to say. Will sips at his water for a long moment, prompting Mike to laugh somewhat awkwardly.

Will quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mike shrugs. “It just feels like… ages since we…”

“… talked?” Will finishes, shaking his head. “I know. I can’t believe we were in the same state and didn’t get together before now.”

“Yeah,” Mike says dumbly. “Why…?” He clears his throat, trying to keep his blush down. “Why didn’t we?”

Their gazes lock then, this familiar vibrance circling between them. Will’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he looks away. “I don’t know, Mike. We just… wanted different things.”

Mike bites his lip, nodding. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s something underneath the words, like the raw tug of a break-up, even though they were never together.

But he doesn’t want to think about that. Repressed feelings are for teenagers. They’re twenty-fucking-seven and they can just be friends. Mike _wants_ to just be friends, for this night anyway, so he looks for a way to fall back into their old rhythm. An idea strikes him within seconds, and he leans forward across the table.

“There’s an arcade two blocks from here.”

Will reflects the mischief in his expression. “They have Dig Dug?”

Mike grins. “They have Dig Dug.”

~<:>~

They stay together well into the night. Mike’s watch reads 1:00am by the time they leave the arcade. Not stumbling drunk like young adults, but high on adrenaline like the nerds they are. Will’s practically leaning on Mike and neither of them can stop smiling.

“I let you win,” Mike insists.

Will laughs. “You wish.”

At Mike’s disgruntled face, Will raises a hand to his cheek like he’s trying to brush it away, and the contact with the momentum sends Mike backward a couple paces. Will laughs again and Mike shoves his shoulder lightly.

This. This feels like old times. This feels like the Will he knows, still bright with energy, still exactly four inches shorter than him. He can’t believe how much he missed their connection until this moment. It just feels _right_. And as they’re walking onto campus, as they part ways to collect their separate cars, Mike gets a sudden pang of panic that they won’t be able to do this again.

Before he can decide to hesitate, he calls out. “Will!”

The other boy turns just in time to be enveloped. Mike holds him, tightly, gently, selfishly, not in the way you’re supposed to hold your friends. He allows himself ten seconds of indulgence in the feeling before pulling back. “Take the job. Here.”

Will looks at him, obviously startled by his seriousness, but Mike can read that he’s pleased as well. An unfamiliar yet wildly familiar expression settles on Will’s face, one where there is some additional sentiment hiding in his eyes. What that sentiment is, though, Mike can’t tell. “Okay.”

Will says it rather softly, but with conviction, and sincerity. Mike gazes back at him with the beginnings of smile around his lips. “Okay.”

It feels like they could kiss, for a few moments. But Will steps back and that breaks the trance. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike.”

“Tomorrow,” Mike echoes, and they both walk backward all the way to their cars. Mike looks over his shoulder before he gets in to find Will’s gaze on him and he waves. Will waves back.

He almost crashes his car on the way home.

~<:>~

Mike does see Will the next day, accepting the job in the astronomy department office. They go to lunch together afterwards to catch up.

He sees him the day after that, too, and the day after that, and soon he’s seeing Will every day, and almost every night, and they might as well be back in Hawkins with how easy it feels. Except that it’s nothing like Hawkins, and there’s an added layer of history that makes Mike’s heart race more than it ever has.

To top it off, Will really loves the bar where Kevin works, so Mike has to put up with that awkwardness when they go there for drinks (usually just water). Luckily, he’s only exchanged a few knowing looks with Kevin, who has not pried into his business at all. He really is a decent guy. Which is why Mike slept with him in the first place.

The thing is, with Will: Mike is so sure that Will is flirting with him at times, but it’s easy to dismiss that as his own hope projecting onto the person that he used to be in love with, so in the end he can’t ever be sure. Is what he’s feeling a memory? Or is it a constant, real, stirred by their reunion?

Either way, it’s kind of excruciating for Mike. He looks forward to every interaction they have, but he worries he can’t maintain a professional distance for long. What if he makes a move and Will doesn’t want it? What if he makes a move and neither of them are ready?

What if he’s wrong, is the main thought circulating about his brain. The last thing he wants is to hurt Will. Because what he was so sure about a few years ago has become muddled with time and anxiety. It all seems to click when they’re together, but when Mike was with Lucas? When they were apart? It just felt… different. Less electric, less glaring. Now that it is, both electric and glaring, can he guarantee it will remain that way? For the rest of their lives? For the duration of time?

Those thoughts race around his head late every night. Thus, the excruciating bit. He might be inclined to seek medication for his anxiety, if it weren’t for the social stigma and expense and, well, anxiety about seeking medication.

He’s fucking hopeless, he knows.

But there is one thing he can’t deny. The feelings that arise whenever he’s with Will are too strong to just ignore. It’s almost the turn of the century, for fuck’s sake. If he can’t speak his mind now, when, if ever, will he be able to do it?

~<:>~

It takes Will seeing someone for him to finally break.

They’re supposed to meet up for lunch, so Mike leaves his department to rap on Will’s office door. Before he can even raise his hand, however, he catches a glimpse of another man inside with Will, through the sliver of glass that forms a window.

His instinct would be to step back and stop looking, if it weren’t for how close the two of them are standing. And the way the guy’s hand is brushing against Will’s. And the fact that their faces are growing closer by the second.

Mike ducks his head just as they kiss. His mind is racing with optimal scenarios, the first being _punch the guy’s lights out_ , which he crosses off immediately. First, he’s not tough enough to be in a real physical fight. Second, the jealous approach does not look good for any party involved. He takes a few seconds to settle on the best course of action.

Trying, hard as ever, to push down the heat in his face, he paces back down the hall and strolls as though he’s just arriving to the office door, leaving no space this time between the arrival and the knocking.

What happens then is both confusing and very interesting.

Mike can still technically see the two of them out of the corner of his eye, even though right now he’s pretending not to, and that means he sees Will see him, and freeze. Then, almost immediately, Will grabs his bag from behind the desk chair and says something inaudible to the guy. With the gestures he’s making, it looks like Will wants him to stay there until after he leaves.

Mike barely has time to process that before the door opens and Will steps out, abruptly shutting it behind him.

“Hi,” he says, looking flushed and winded.

Mike quirks an eyebrow. “Hi.”

Will doesn’t seem to pay any mind to how suspicious he’s acting as he puts distance between the two of them and the office. “Shall we? I’m starving.”

Mike follows him with narrowed eyes and a slight edge to his demeanor.

They settle in at one of the university’s off-site restaurants, choosing their usual table, ordering their typical sandwiches, chatting about the day thus far. They mix in some discussion of _Twin Peaks_ , which Mike introduced to Will, and some discussion of _The X-Files_ , which they’re both still watching as it airs.

Their break is only about forty-five minutes long, so Mike tries to work the conversation toward dating as soon as there’s a lull.

“So,” he starts, wiping his mouth. “I know that you and Jerome broke up a while back.”

Will blinks. “Yeah… we did.”

Mike shrugs. “Have you seen anyone since then?”

“Well—yeah.” Will shakes his head. “Since two years ago? Yeah, I’ve seen people.”

Mike nods, swallows, gearing himself up for Will’s response to his question. “And are you seeing anyone now?”

Will freezes, not unlike he did back in the office thirty minutes earlier. Mike gives him time to process, chewing quietly. Eventually, Will sets his fork down and sighs. “So you saw that?”

Mike doesn’t quite know how to answer. “You didn’t want me to see that?”

“No—I…” Will fumbles, not daring to look at him. “I guess I didn’t.”

The intrigue kicks up at that. “Why not?” Mike asks, trying to be sincere. “You know that I won’t judge. I’m always here for you.”

“Of course I know that.” Will’s voice is almost monotone. He’s definitely hiding something, and it’s so frustrating that Mike can’t tell what it is anymore.

“Look…” he relents. “I know that… it’s really difficult not to feel ashamed. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to—”

“Yeah, but you have a choice, don’t you, Mike?” Will interrupts, suddenly harsh. Mike frowns. “You could be normal if you wanted to. You could be… happy.”

He looks so worn, and devastated, that Mike’s emotions spike every which way, before settling on confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Will shakes his head, hands pressed to his temples, as though clearing the thoughts away. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Will—”

He stands. “I have a class to teach.”

He leaves Mike shocked, and hurting, but above all wondering if all along Will’s been in love with him, too.

~<:>~

They don’t see each other for the next week or so. It’s painful enough only seeing Will platonically, but to not see him at all… Mike can’t stand it. But he can’t think of how to approach Will, what to do, what to say.

Mike ends up in the bar by himself during their usual Friday night out. He’s actually drinking this time, though fairly slowly, as he doesn’t want to throw up tomorrow morning. Just his luck, _Kevin_ switches in behind the bar after his first hour there.

To his surprise, Kevin actually goes right to him, rests his elbows on the counter, and tilts his head. “Mike.”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “Kevin.”

The buzz in his head is dying down just a bit, but with all this awkwardness, he craves more alcohol. He fiddles with his half-full glass as Kevin speaks again. “You know… I’m not actually on shift right now. I just requested to come over here, because this is the first time I’ve seen you in here without your boy in months.”

Mike snorts and raises his glass to his lips. “Not my boy.”

“Well. Your _friend_ , then.” Kevin sighs. “Look, it’s cheesy for bartenders to give advice, I know.” Mike puts on a Ted Wheeler poker face to prepare himself for whatever he’s about to hear. “But,” Kevin continues. “I seriously think you should tell him how you feel. If you haven’t already. I watched you drown your sorrows over here for an hour and I just can’t anymore.”

“Sorry,” Mike says without zeal.

“You think you’re the first?” Kevin laughs shortly. “Half the people that come in here do that shit. I just happen to know you. And I know I’m right about you and him.”

Mike shrugs. “So what if you are?”

“ _Mike_.” He says his name not entirely unlike Lucas used to. It grabs Mike’s attention. “Just talk to him. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I don’t think it matters.” Kevin leans in a little closer, a little more direct. “Go to him. Because I think you really want to be there, not here, where you can’t do anything about it.”

“You sure think a lot,” Mike comments, but he’s starting to see the wisdom behind Kevin’s words. Especially now that the guy’s reminding him of Lucas.

Kevin slowly slides the glass out of Mike’s hand and pulls a ‘get-your-ass-out-of-that-chair-and-head-out-of-your-ass’ face. “Go.”

~<:>~

He’s only been to Will’s place once before, but he knows the address by heart.

Despite the fact that it’s nine on a Friday night, Will answers the door in his pajamas. It’s sort of comforting to know that he didn’t have any other plans.

“Mike,” Will greets him, surprise evident on his face.

“Hi,” Mike says directly, in an attempt to brush past to the point. “Can I come in?”

A tiny crease appears between Will’s brows. “Are you drunk?”

Mike knows he must smell a bit, but he shakes his head. “Not really.” Not at all. He’s never felt more sober in his life.

Will lets him in, and they end up on the balcony. It’s a nice spring night for California, not too hot like it will be in a few months. The view from Will’s apartment overlooks more buildings, cars, and street signs, but it still feels peaceful. Gentle breeze moving their clothes.

“I don’t, by the way.”

He says it unprompted, into the silence hanging between them. Will turns his head. “Don’t what?”

“Have a choice.”

That hits the mark, shifts the tone. Mike knows what he has to say, and he’s grateful that Will gives him the space to say it. “Because I’ve tried—to choose.” He shakes his head, remembering. “I’ve tried to fall in love with people in the past. But it just doesn’t happen that way.”

Will stays quiet and Mike folds his hands together, pressing down tighter against the railing. “Falling in love is unpredictable… and it’s… unconscious, and it’s…” He squeezes his eyes shut with a frustrated sigh. “ _Fuck_ , I know that you know what I’m trying to say.”

Will still doesn’t speak, and Mike doesn’t expect him to. But he’s struggling over here and it hurts to be so… alone with this. He turns his body to face Will. “Haven’t you… haven’t _we_ … always known?”

In the dark light of the city and the moon, Mike can just make out Will’s eyes, which are shining with what looks like defeat. “Known what Mike?” he says finally, and it comes out sounding exhausted.

The train is steamrolling and Mike can’t stop now. “I’m in love with you.”

He doesn’t wait for the impact. He has to say it all. “I’m fucking in love with you, Will. And you have no idea how much of an _idiot_ I feel for telling you now, when you’re seeing someone, when I’ve had so much time to realize it, when the world as we know it might fall into apocalypse in a year… I just—”

It’s nothing like he wanted it to be. It never really is, he supposes. “I’m an idiot, okay?”

Will’s silence speaks volumes, especially now that he’s refusing to look at Mike. His posture crumpled, small and rigid.

“And I’m sorry,” Mike practically whispers, blinking away tears. His heart is sinking anchor-deep into the pit of his soul. “And I love you.”

He can’t look at Will anymore, either. He can’t even be here right now. Of course Will is going to need time to process and he has to leave now, before he can do or say anything more that will hurt.

A soft, cold hand catches his arm as he turns and pulls him back.

And down.

Into Will’s lips.

 _Into Will_.

It’s a kiss. Their first. And Mike’s heart is stumbling back up his chest and into his throat because he thinks he knows what this must mean, but he’s so afraid, always, of feeling too much. And this feeling is—

Too good to be true. And he wants to cry, because he’s finally kissing Will. They’re finally—fuck, and Will’s hand cups his face and he’s clutching Will’s cheeks and it’s—

It’s like his whole life is spinning _right here_. Like his heart is going to explode.

Will draws back. “I’ve always been in love with you, Mike Wheeler,” he whispers. “And I always will be.”

Mike’s brain has officially stopped working properly, as the next words out of his mouth are, “So… you and… that guy…?”

“I just fucking met him, Mike,” Will says, exasperated. “There’s nothing there. Jesus, I love _you_.”

And he captures his mouth again to prove it.

The fact that there have been so many times they _could have_ kissed is fucking with Mike’s ability to believe that they are actually kissing. But they _are_ kissing, breathing into each other’s mouths and curling into each other’s space. Holding each other like lifelines.

And when they start, clumsily, back inside, they don’t stop to think. They keep kissing, hands roaming to areas below the shoulders. They strip each other, slowly but surely, down to their bare skin, and they fall back onto the bed like it’s exactly where they belong. Never fitting more perfectly.

Their motions are intermittently slowed for words of affection that fill the dim space around them. Mike kisses down Will’s chest and Will’s fingers play with his hair and they stay that way, moving into one another, rolling spotlights and tinted energy finally coming together in the way they were always meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to the old gods and the new that the next chapter will be the content we deserve but I'm not exactly great at Producing Content without Procrastinating For Eight Years First <3 Thank you for all the support on this fic!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike & Will (finally together!!!)-- reunion with all the other characters, so it's #supersixsquad time
> 
> *trigger warning for Coming Out to Parents* (but it goes rlly well)

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“You look fine,” Mike says for the third time. “Oh my god. Are you really this nervous?”

Will adjusts the shirt he’s wearing in front of the mirror, where he’s been standing for the past twenty minutes. They’ve been packing for the past hour and Mike’s already done, but Will can’t decide what outfit to wear on their first day back home.

“Doesn’t it look…”

“Classy? Cute? Attractive?” Mike supplies.

Will sighs. “Like I’m trying too hard?”

Mike drops the book he was reading onto the bed and moves to stand behind Will. “It’s _just_ a gathering,” he soothes, running his hands over his boyfriend’s arms.

Will’s mouth is still twisted uncomfortably. “It’s Christmas and New Year’s and possibly the end of the world!” he says adamantly. Adjusts the collar again, somewhat defeated. “What’s there to be nervous about?”

“Hey.” Mike turns him away from the mirror and guides his chin up. “It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be right there with you.”

Will’s eyes grow happier at that and he leans up to kiss Mike.

To be honest, Mike is looking forward to the reunion. His little sister just finished her first semester of college. His big sister is bring _both_ of her boyfriends home for Christmas. Why shouldn’t Mike be able to bring his?

Of course, he’s more looking forward to seeing his friends all in one place again. Max and El have been traveling the world since they left for Sweden, Lucas is hardly anywhere for long with the writing he does for _Energy Conversion and Management_ , and Dustin has been holed up in a lab off Corrales, New Mexico. The fact that they can even be in the same place at the same time is a miracle.

Mike kisses Will a few more times on the mouth, then the cheek and the forehead to get him to laugh. “Stop it!”

“No.” Mike kisses his nose and watches it crinkle. “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I’m not sad,” Will insists. “I’m just… anxious.”

“Well, I don’t like that either.” Mike kisses him again, slow, and sweet. Their noses bump gently and he raises his eyebrows. “Okay?”

Will nods. “Okay.”

They forget about packing in favor of more kissing.

~<:>~

The snow in Hawkins falls in perfect tempo, just covering the ground in a thick white blanket. After over thirty hours in the car, passing cities, fields, and sketchy new towns, it’s nice to see some familiar structures.

Mike looks over at Will, asleep in the passenger’s seat. He figures he should probably wake him before they arrive at his old house, but he’s so relaxed, and Mike doesn’t want to ruin that.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to, as Will stirs the moment they turn onto the road leading up to his driveway.

“Hey,” Mike says quietly. “We’re here.”

Will nods sleepily and clears his eyes. The sun has long gone down, but it’s only ten o’clock in Indiana. Thankfully, their internal clocks haven’t been messed up enough that they can still go to bed at the proper time.

Joyce greets them at the door with open arms, looking no older than she did sixteen years ago.

“My boys,” she exclaims, enveloping each of them in a hug. “Do you need any help with your bags or anything?”

“Mom, we’re okay,” Will assures her. “Your back…”

“William Byers, you are not supposed to be looking after me.” Joyce brings him down so she can kiss his head. “That’s my job.”

Mike can’t help but feel warmed at the display.

Later, when they’ve unpacked their things, and Will crawls in bed next to him, he wraps his arms around the other boy and holds him, away from discomfort.

“I’m afraid to tell her,” Will whispers into the dark.

Mike kisses his neck. “Don’t be. She loves you more than anything in the world.”

~<:>~

Will’s wearing the outfit he picked out the next day. Mike walks around the kitchen, living room, trying to determine if any updates have been made; it looks ageless, just like Joyce. It’s almost like this whole town is stuck in time.

That wouldn’t surprise Mike given all the supernatural phenomenon surrounding Hawkins. He sometimes wonders if it all won’t come back to haunt them someday.

But that thought is chased away as Joyce comes bustling in, with a plate of food. “Okay.” She draws out the word, setting the plate down in front of Will. “Scrambled eggs still your favorite?”

Will grins at her. “I wouldn’t eat anything else for breakfast.”

Mike feels a bit like an outsider to the conversation, so he sits quietly on the couch, hoping not to disturb them.

No such luck, as Joyce calls him over almost immediately. “Mike, come join us!”

He eases himself into the chair beside Will, offering him a supportive smile that comes out as more of a grimace. Will takes it and clears his throat.

“Mom?”

Joyce gazes at him curiously. “Yes, sweetie?”

Will swallows. “I have to tell you something.”

Joyce, like her son, waits patiently for his next words, a soothing hand rubbing circles across Will’s. Mike holds his other hand under the table.

Will takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. “I’m gay.”

Silence hangs between the three of them, and Mike feels more uncomfortable than ever. Like he’s intruding on a private moment.

When Joyce still doesn’t say anything, Will surges on. “I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long, and I understand if… it upsets you.”

Without hesitation, Joyce raises their joined hands and kisses his softly. “My baby boy,” she starts. “There is nothing in this world or any worlds beyond that could keep me from loving you. _All_ of you.”

A lone tear finds its way down Will’s cheek. Joyce brushes it away and wraps him in her arms as much as she can around the table. Mike can’t keep his tears in either, but he wipes them with the back of his hand before they can totally leak out.

The motion seems to startle the two Byers apart, and Joyce finally registers Mike’s presence in the conversation. “And you’re telling me this now, because…?” she asks Will, looking between the two of them.

Will smiles and takes Mike’s hand. “Because Mike and I—we’re together. And we hope to stay that way, into the indefinite future.”

Joyce squeals with delight and claps her hands. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you two! My boys, come here, please!”

They stand and surround Joyce in a warm, emotional, sandwich hug. Will catches Mike’s eyes over the top of her head, and for this moment, it feels like everything is going to be alright.

~<:>~

Mike’s technically staying at the Byers’ for the holidays, but he visits Holly and his parents back at the old house. He’s already told them that he’s bringing someone for the holidays, and with all the drama Nancy’s caused, they don’t seem to care that it’s a man. Not that Mike needs their approval anyway. His sisters are what matter to him and both are extremely supportive.

Nancy arrives a couple days after Mike and Will, but she leaves Jonathan and Steve back at Harrington’s place. As far as Mike knows, she wasn’t invited to stay at the Wheeler’s. He figures she'll manage just fine with two gorgeous men keeping her company (he hasn't actually asked how the three of them... _work_ , but he's assuming that they all... he doesn't want to think about it). 

Lucas and Dustin happen to pull into Hawkins at around the same time, both single for the moment but ready to mingle anywhere that isn’t their hometown. The four boys end up in a group hug the second they all see each other. Which turns into a painful cuddle puddle that Mike decides he wants no part in (but he’s pulled back down because apparently, even though he’s a grown-ass adult, he has no choice).

Neither Lucas nor Dustin are surprised at the news that the two of them are now dating, but Dustin insists on picking both of them up and spinning them around, laughing hysterically the whole time. Everyone’s been subsequently caught up as to Lucas and Mike’s history, and despite the fact that Lucas’s reaction is genuinely happy, Mike knows, Dustin still insists (again) that Will and Lucas clear the air of any tension or jealousy. (Lucas and Mike begin pummeling him, but Will just laughs it all off.)

The word on the street is that Max and El aren’t arriving until the New Year’s Eve party, and they don’t disappoint. About an hour into the affair, which is happily parent-free, Mike turns from where he was, arm slung around Will, to see them standing in the colorfully-lit doorway.

“Yo!” he shouts.

They’re just standing there like supermodels until he calls to them, Max looking tan for a redhead, her ginger hair cropped stylishly just below her chin, and El with dyed teal-blue ends tucked up into a bun. Both girls are dressed seemingly for summer despite the below-freezing weather. Above all, they’re holding hands, and looking happy. El’s face lights up when she sees Mike.

He’s ready for her momentum as she runs into a hug. “Hey, super girl,” he says, squeezing her tighter.

She pulls back and grins at him. The two of them are only allowed a couple seconds before Max appears behind her girlfriend, rolling her eyes as usual.

“Long time no see, asshole.”

Mike picks her up for the fun of it and they both end up laughing.

When he sets her down, he takes a moment to regard his friends. “Where the hell have you two been?”

The girls share a look and Max responds. “Oh, you know. Here there and everywhere.”

El raises her head, smirking. “We’ve been eliminating dickheads on all seven continents.”

Mike’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Eliminating?”

Max kisses her girlfriend on the cheek. “Don’t mind her.”

El spots someone behind Mike and runs to hug them, too. Mike steps closer to Max. “Seriously, should I mind?”

“Relax, Lawful Good,” Max chides. “Everything’s under control.”

Mike wants to comment that he’s always been Chaotic Neutral, but he’s sure Max already knows that. And El comes back over with Will in tow, so he and Max greet each other.

Mike watches the girls make googly eyes at each other and he wraps his arm around Will again, kissing his cheek, and startling the other set of lovebirds out of their trance.

“Wait,” Max says, hands out in front of her. “You two—finally…?”

“Yep,” Mike replies.

“Oh my god!”

Another—standing—cuddle puddle ensues, until they’re all dancing together to the off-brand music and laughing like it hasn’t been ages since they’ve connected.

Once Max and El greet Lucas and Dustin—and there’s enough kissing, hugging, and lifting for the next decade or so—they all settle around a booth and chat up a storm. Mike learns that Lucas has officially been promoted to ‘best journalist out of all the other journalists’ according to his boss at _E.C.M_. He also learns that Max and El were not kidding when they said all seven continents, as they apparently spent three months chilling in Antarctica. And Dustin has been able to top Mike’s record with not five, but sixteen consecutive explosions at his lab station in under twenty-four hours.

It feels like they’re only there for twenty minutes before the ball on the TV starts to drop. Lucas and Dustin have reluctantly agreed to kiss each other, much to Dustin’s delight and Lucas’s disgust.

As the countdown hits ten, Mike gazes around at the group of friends that have held him up through all these long years. First Dustin, with his unparalleled ability to lift Mike’s spirits and slap into submission at the same time. Then Lucas, who taught him practically everything about relationships, about his own sexuality, and about love. Max, who came in a little late but managed to be the friend he needed, always and forever, sarcasm and edginess a perfect match for his. El, his first love, his best friend, and the person who showed him just how brave he could be.

He lands, finally, on Will, who is looking at him, too. The countdown hits five, and Mike remembers that this was how they looked at each other when they were twelve. It was how they looked at each other when Will was rescued, that Halloween night after his episode, in the shed when Will was barely human. It was how they looked at each other after coming out, that night the first summer after college, at 1:00am on campus with Mike’s hands still lingering by Will’s shoulders.

It’s the only way to look at the person you’re meant to call your soulmate. With spectacular, consciousness-altering love.

~<:>~

_“Happy New Year!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *technically* uploaded before July 4th :D Or at least before *my* eyes view Stranger Things 3. Thank you so much everyone who has read this!! There will be an epilogue coming very soon <3 Also if anyone wants to write the adventures of Maxine Mayfield and Eleven "Jane" Hopper in destroying the seven continents' dickheads, I give you my full permission. Just like @ me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue-- as promised, the story will end with Byler happiness & love. Even though Pride month just ended and the date has passed, we should always be proud!! All the <3 <3 <3 to everyone out there who's had it rough. It does get better. I promise <3
> 
> (forgive the DBH references I'm sorry all the references are just because I'm a freak)

Mike has to use one shoulder and one hip to open the door, as his arms are full of groceries. He hates making more than one trip so much that he’s got seven bags looped around his elbows and four against his chest. Even at forty-plus years, he still manages to behave like a disaster.

That’s why he has Will, though. Obviously. “Babe!” he calls, dumping the pile of bags onto the kitchen table. “Will?”

There’s footsteps on the stairs, so Mike keeps rambling. “I know you said we’d be fine until tomorrow, but I went to the store today instead. I know, I know, I need to relax. I’m sorry, I just—”

As he turns, he sees Will standing in the doorway, looking his age for once with serious intensity lining his face. His eyes are unreadable. “What?” Mike asks, stepping forward with concern.

“Did you see the news?”

“What?”

Will shakes his head. “You didn’t see it?”

Mike’s on edge now. “Will, what’s going on?”

Without another word, Will spins on his heel and heads into the living room, Mike following swiftly. “Will…”

His partner is reaching for his phone, which is plugged in on the end table by their couch. When he hands it to Mike, there’s an article open, and the headline draws Mike’s attention immediately.

_**Same-Sex Couples Approved for Marriage Licenses Across All Fifty States** _

“It passed,” Will says in awe. “The government approved it. Throughout the country.”

Mike looks up at him, speechless.

“We can get married,” Will continues. “Anywhere. Legally.”

“Holy shit,” Mike whispers. He can feel the tears start to leak out of him for the first time in what feels like years.

“I know.” Will takes Mike’s face in his hands. “I know.”

They’re both crying when they kiss, but it’s filled with an overwhelming happiness. Mike was starting to believe that they’d never see this day. He _couldn’t_ believe it, when all they saw on the news, on the street, were people still fighting for their lives. Hate so often trumps fairness and love.

But today, love has won.

Mike pulls back and laughs out all his conflicting emotions, wipes away some of the streaming tears. “We have to get married now.”

Will gives him a watery smile. “Obviously.”

“Do Max and El know?”

“What do they care; they got married years ago.”

“Well they’re invited,” Mike says definitively. “And so are Lucas and Mark, and Dustin and Kara." He gasps as a thought strikes him. "Ooo! We should invite Kevin—he’s the reason we got together in the first place.”

Will holds up his hands at Mike’s enthusiasm. “Invite them to what?”

“To our wedding,” Mike clarifies, brushing his thumb over Will’s cheek. “That we are going to have. Very soon.”

Will covers Mike’s hand with his. “How soon?”

Heart pounding and blooming and dancing in his chest, Mike kneels.

“This soon.”

He doesn’t have a ring, but he figures the gesture is enough for now with the way Will is looking at him.

“William Jonathan Byers,” Mike says, deliberately making Will laugh, even as they both start to cry again. “Will you marry me?”

Will crouches down to Mike’s level and takes his face in his hands again. “Michael Nancy Wheeler, I will marry you, despite the fact that you have no ring.”

He kisses Mike mid-laugh, full and desperate.

 _This_ is the moment that feels too good to be true. That they’re actually proposing, that they can actually follow through and get married, without stigma. That they can share in this happiness because enough people saw fit to grant them this beautiful privilege.

After years of being considered different, after everything that Will has suffered… Mike wants to cry harder. Because now he can give Will a sense of belonging neither of them have ever felt before.

Once they break away to breathe, Will straightens and Mike groans when he tries to do the same, earning a teasing eyebrow.

“Can you get up, now?”

“Shut up.”

It takes a moment, which makes Mike feel incredibly old. It also reminds him how angry he is that they couldn’t do this fifteen years earlier, but he looks at Will and the joy wins out that he gets to do this at all.

“So,” Will says. "Shall we?" 

"Shall we what?"

Will's hand rests on Mike’s arm, fingertips start tapping out a rhythm. Mike smiles as he concentrates.

_U-N-I-T-E_

Mike kisses him.

_Y-E-S_

And they do.


End file.
